


Finding the Lights

by lizzy112092



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Character Death, Depression, F/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5808187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzy112092/pseuds/lizzy112092
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If it had been nighttime and she’d only just glanced, she might have been able to pretend it was a cluster of shooting stars.  She might have moved on with her evening happier and hopeful. Her work on the base was worth it – it was important – it was destiny. See, Anya, she’d have told herself. Even the stars know it. The endless litany of reminders she fed herself throughout the day when she was tired or frightened or lost. </p><p>If it had been nighttime, she might have wished a little wish and moved on."</p><p>When Anya Sayul, an officer for the Resistance, watches the First Order destroy her family and her home on Hosnian Prime, she is left reeling and lost -- sinking into a depression she refuses to acknowledge. This story follows her journey back to hope and happiness with some help from the base's most revered pilot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Darkness of the Path

**Author's Note:**

> As of now, this story is a WIP. I usually do not post ANYTHING until I've completely finished writing an entire piece (which if you search my writing history on this website, is extremely rare). But I'm really into this story, and I wanted to share it now. 
> 
> I'm a recent graduate, and my new job takes up a good majority of my time. So if you do happen to enjoy what I've put down here, please try to be patient. I write when I have the opportunity, meaning updates might come sporadically at best. 
> 
> For whatever reason, Miss Anya is close to my heart, and through her I am exploring new emotions and fears. Let's see where she and a certain, curly-haired pilot take us, shall we?

If it had been nighttime and she’d only just glanced, she might have been able to pretend it was a cluster of shooting stars. She might have moved on with her evening happier and hopeful. Her work on the base was worth it – it was important – it was destiny. See, Anya, she’d have told herself. Even the stars know it. The endless litany of reminders she fed herself throughout the day when she was tired or frightened or lost. 

If it had been nighttime, she might have wished a little wish and moved on. 

But it wasn’t, and instead the dully winking light in the blue sky was the flashbulb death of billions. It wasn’t until she heard the screams that she emerged from her station inside the base. She tripped over her own feet in the rush of those around her, scraping her palms raw and bloody in the dirt before scrambling out into the growing crowd. All heads were turned toward the sky, and so she looked, too.

In seconds, her home blotted out of existence. Her family gone. The cruel hands of the First Order’s death artists swiping them away with a single stroke. And there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it. The ringing in her ears drowned out the sounds of her fellow Resistance fighters. She was hollow: a shell. She emptied her brain as the pressure in her chest squeezed the air from her lungs. She waited for the wind to pick her up and carry her away so she wouldn’t have to think.

And there she stood, eyes focused on the middle distance until minutes, hours, months later – she couldn’t be sure of the time – when a familiar face swam in her blurred field of vision. Dark skin, curly hair, worried brows.

“Anya.” It blew against her cheeks. They were cold in their wetness. How long had they been wet?

“Anya, I’m so,” Lerona wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Anya fell into her, but her own arms hung limply at her sides, hands grasping for something she knew was gone forever. They were filled only with the sting of fresh wounds. 

It was then that sound came crashing back to her ears -- the wails of her own wracking sobs.

*****

The survivors landed in a flourish led by Dameron – their glowing leader. Ever charismatic, ever loved. The rousing cheers in his name reached her at the back of the crowd. The pilots tumbled from their cockpits and into one another. Tight squeezes and cheek kisses. Dameron’s curly hair was standing on end, molded by sweat and the congratulatory roughing-up from his fellow pilots. His bright smile disappeared behind craning necks searching for a glimpse of their victor. Anya knew he’d been the one to fire the critical hits – had heard the news from her station in the command room during the mission.

She hugged herself and waited for some semblance of peace to come. She was tired and sore for reasons that she couldn’t even place. And instead of the relief she had bargained on, her body was weighted with the heavy pull of exhaustion. 

The Starkiller Base was destroyed, largely thanks to their best pilot. The Resistance had swayed the battle in their favor and dealt a blow to the enemy that would at least halt their progress for a time. She hoped that a lot of them had died. She hoped that it was painful. She hoped…a lot of terrible things that she knew would not bring Hosnian Prime back – would not bring her mother or her father or her brothers back. Everyone around her seemed to be smiling and cheering. She knew that soon they would waste many rations in their night’s revels.

She also knew that as hard as she tried, she would not be able to fake the cheer they needed from her. And so, with a nod to some of her friends and a grateful glance in the direction of the pilots, she turned on her heel and plodded off in the direction of the tree line.

Darkness fell faster than she had expected, and soon she was slogging through trees and weeds in the blackness, the lights from the base’s partying serving as her only bearing. Twigs scraped against her arms and face – the fading scabs on her palms. Occasionally, a drunken cheer would echo through the forest, and a ghost of a smile would grace her lips. But as soon as she tripped over a hidden root, it was gone again. 

She had no idea where she was headed, she just knew her destination was away. She needed air, untainted with the adrenaline and the hope and the excitement behind her. She wanted air that didn’t smell like the bloody trees and grass and dirt that was perpetually surrounding her in this place, so unlike her home in the heart of the city. She wanted a lot of things that she couldn’t have, and her legs continued to scream at her – run, run, run.

She broke through the trees off of an incline and into a clearing with a suddenness that surprised her. It spread out 20 meters on either side, and she walked into the dead center. It was silent, only her tired breathing and the nightsong filling the space around her. Above, the stars shined, bathing her in a colorless glow; her hands spread ahead of her, a dull gray. She was far enough from the base that no one would be able to hear her.

Here, she decided. For so long she had held herself together because the Resistance was in the midst of the fight and needed her intelligence expertise to fight the good fight. To survive. She had stayed most of the tears and the grief. 

Here, alone, was where she could finally fall apart. 

She was on her knees before she knew how she had gotten there, and as her world crashed down around her, she gripped into the dirt with her fingers, clinging to its solidity and strength. The world was a leaden blur behind the flow of tears. She let the screams rip from her lungs until her throat was raw and she could only squeak with sadness. 

Her father’s warm hands that spanned her back as he pulled her in for a hug. Gone. 

Her mother’s long, dark hair; her humming in the mornings as she brushed until it shined. Gone. 

Her brothers’ incessant teasing – that she’d sworn she hated – their poking and prodding and tactless joking. Gone. 

For every lost memory, she shed a tear. She cried until her wells dried up, then rested and cried once more. Eventually – hair a mess, face in the dirt, voice entirely gone – she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep. 

*****

“Hey! Hello? Are you…BB-8, back up! No, back away! Hello?”

The panicked voice finally woke her. She could feel rough hands on the side of her neck. 

“She’s…she has a heartbeat. Hello? Miss? Are you awake?”

She groaned and the hands left her neck, only to return moments later to gently brush the hair from her face. She was struck that it was still dark outside when she cracked open one eye. The night bugs blinked lazily in the blackness like flickering candles. 

“I’m…” she cleared her throat when her voice came out like crushed gravel. “I’m fine,” she tried again, pushing herself up into a sitting position, eyes still on the ground. Her neck and her back were stiff from laying in the grass. She felt the heat in her cheeks; even here, she couldn’t be alone. 

The metallic whirl of droidspeak floated over from somewhere behind the man hovering above her head. 

“Yeah, she’s…” he called, and then leaned closer. “You’re alright, aren’t you?”

In lieu of another failed attempt at speaking, she nodded her head and flattened down her gnarled hair. Cautiously, she raised her gaze. 

Coughing, and looking Poe Dameron in the face, she nodded again. “I’m alive, if that’s what you mean.”

He nodded back and crouched to a squat in front of her. “Somewhat, at least,” he lifted the corners of his lips. “But, I mean. Are you okay? You look like you’ve been attacked or something. Not that I mean that in a…..I just.”

“I know,” she rasped. “I look like absolute bantha shit.”

He laughed, bright and warm. She missed laughing like that. “Well, I wasn’t going to put it so bluntly. But yes, you do look like shit.”

The droid trilled happily behind him.

“Hm. Thanks,” she scooted slightly back from him and rolled to her knees, tripping to a standing position. He followed, steadying her with an arm. His cheery droid rolled around to her left side and softly bumped against her calf. She noticed that Dameron was still in his flight pants and undershirt, top portion of the suit tied at the waist.

“Poe,” he said, offering his other hand. “Poe Dameron. I’m one of the pilots at the base. And that’s BB-8.”

One of the pilots at the base. She had to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Instead, she offered out a hand of her own. “Anya Sayul. Research and intelligence.”

“Anya,” he repeated, gaze traveling across her face. “I think I remember you. You’re in the command room?”

She hummed, wondering how red and puffy her eyes were. “Yes. In the command room.” She wanted to get back to her bunk in the living quarters as soon as possible now that her false sense of isolation had been so rudely shattered. As grateful as she was for Dameron’s hand in taking down her family’s killers, she’d planned on having a little longer to grieve out here on her own – away from prying eyes. There was no chance of that now. Tomorrow would be the return to heavy work, and she was sure she would never be able to find her way back to this clearing on her off time.

She smiled, which she was sure came off as more of a grimace, removed her arm from his light grasp, and started walking back to the base. 

“Anya?” Dameron called, watching her retreat. 

“Yeah?”

He nodded his head in the opposite direction and crossed his arms. “Base is back that way.”

When she turned and followed his nod, he laughed.

“Would you like for us to lead you back?”

Her gut reaction was an immediate no, but she was evidently out of her depth here.

“I…” she cleared her throat again. “I guess. I don’t remember exactly how I got here, if I’m being honest.” 

“There’s a path, otherwise BB-8 would have had a really hard time following me this way. You didn’t use the path?”

She held out her arms and showed him the various scratches from branches and other weeds that she’d gotten on her way here.

When she went to rest them back at her sides, he reached down and caught her wrists, hissing. “Anya. What did you…?” His eyes flitted from her arms to her eyes. When he flipped her hands over and caught sight of her palms, they narrowed.

“Well, I sort of jogged here through the woods. It was just by chance that I made it here.”

Dameron ignored the missing information. The hows, the whys, the wherefores. He simply nodded his head in acceptance of her answer, pulled a scrap of cloth out of his pocket, covered in grease and gods knew what else, and wiped away some of the dried blood. After he’d cleaned to his satisfaction, he put the cloth away and looked down into her eyes once more. 

“Alright. Back to the base, then?”

She nodded and followed him onto the path that she’d completely missed earlier. She hoped she didn’t continue to run into Dameron on the base, because she’d never be able to live that one down. Intelligence officer, indeed.

For quite some time, they walked in near silence. Dameron would stop to help her over holes and large roots, and BB-8 would keep up a quiet chatter – to which Dameron would occasionally answer with an offhand “yes,” or “no.” 

Eventually, the oddity of his presence in the clearing that night at all finally struck her. Why would the base’s reigning hero run away for the night when he could be with his friends basking in the glory of his victory? Dameron especially, who seemed to be the epitome of social. 

“So,” she croaked when she noticed that they were nearing the edge of the trees. “Why were you out in the forest tonight?”

He didn’t immediately answer. Instead, he gestured for her hand and helped her around a series of rocks and tree roots that might have tripped her up and then continued his stroll along the path. BB-8 rolled on ahead of them. 

When the silence stretched on for much longer, she assumed that he either hadn’t heard her or decided not to answer. In any case, she would have to be content with her own assumptions, which – given some of the whispers among the female workers on the base – might have been something illicit that he simply hadn’t wished to share with her. A rendezvous with a grateful co-worker…or two. Maybe three. 

As soon as she’d moved on to the idle musings of how one might juggle three lovers simultaneously, he finally chose to respond. She blushed like she’d been caught doing something poor, and hoped that the cover of the dark would hide her guilty expression.

“I lost some good people out there today.” 

Again she waited, but he didn’t elaborate for some time. 

“This is only a path because…well. I’ve made it a path because I’ve walked it so often,” he turned to her, flashing a sad smile. “Usually after people go down like they did today, I need to have a think for a while. That clearing you were in is usually where I do my thinking.”

She stopped walking just inside the tree line, and when he noticed that she hadn’t followed him into the moonlight, he turned.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone…”

She cleared her throat. “I would have picked somewhere else.”

He nodded, rubbing his palms against his thighs. “I’m sorry, too.”

He gazed back at her with an intensity that made her shiver. He saw through her. He knew what she’d meant without really knowing. A victory comes with incredible losses. It’s something she never considered when she cast her life in with the resistance, but she learned her own lesson several days before. From the ghosts she could sense in Dameron’s dark eyes, she knew it was one he’d learned long ago. 

Anya wasn’t ready for his condolences, and she didn’t yet want to share her sob story aloud. Instead, she reached up to flatten her hair once more and started walking back to the base. 

“Well, Dameron. Thank you for helping me back. I guess I’ll see you again when I see you.”

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the formality. “You’re welcome, Sayul. Take it easy for me, will you?”

She attempted a smile and continued out toward the airfield, away from the pilot and his droid. 

“No promises,” she whispered to herself.

From behind, she heard his shout: “BB-8! C’mon. We’re heading back to the spot.” Followed by the droid’s frustrated response.

“Well, fine, lazy. I’m heading back to the spot. Go – find R2 or something. I’ll head in later in the morning. If you don’t see me for a while, don’t set off an alarm or anything. I’ll be back.”

She tried not to peek behind as she walked, but she did take one glance just as he disappeared again onto the darkness of the path.


	2. Name the Stars

Her assumptions about the immediate return to work were wrong.

They were given three days for recovery and celebration. Anya knew recovery was the primary reason. As happy as they all were to have destroyed such a terrible force of the enemy’s, they’d also lost many of their own in the fight. There would need to be a heavy overhaul in the flight division; about half of the arsenal had gone down in the assault on the Starkiller Base. Training new pilots and building new X-Wings was going to take some time.

General Organa was also mourning the loss of her husband, although her grief showed on her face very little when she emerged from her quarters to check on the intel in the command room. There were still a few people manning their stations during the off period to monitor the Order’s response and tally their own losses. Workers also needed to keep tabs on young Rey and her travels to locate Skywalker. 

Anya had caught glimpses of the General on the two shifts she’d agreed to work. Her hair was immaculate, as always, if more subdued. But Anya could see the tightness in her eyes and slight droop to her shoulders when she thought no one was looking. When Rey and Chewbacca sent word that they’d made contact with her brother, she gripped the edge of the holo-projector, nodded her head, and made a sluggish exit toward the sleeping quarters. Anya couldn’t help but feel as though she knew the pain she must be feeling.

On the final day of their short reprieve, Anya decided to search for Dameron’s clearing in the woods. She’d either kept to the command center or to the sleeping quarters she shared with Lerona after their last encounter, so she hadn’t seen him. She wasn’t looking to find him that night either, but she felt she could do with the stillness of his hiding spot for a few hours. As much as she enjoyed Lerona on a normal day, she’d been giving Anya pitying looks since the destruction of the Hosnian system, and she was starting to feel she couldn’t breathe for the steadiness of them. Whether Anya was tucking into bed or tying up her hair in their small shared mirror, Lerona’s stare was burning holes through her. Her unusual offers for unnecessary help (“I can tidy the room if you want,” “I’ll wake you when you need if you don’t want to set an alarm,” “Do you want me to grab you something from mess?”) were suffocating her. She didn’t want help, or pity, or more rest. She wanted things beyond her reach and power. 

She gathered up a jacket and a handheld light from under her bunk just as Lerona sidled in through the automatic door to their room.

“Where’re you headed? I thought we might grab something to eat before mess closes up for the night.” She crossed her arms after running a hand through her tight, black curls. 

“I thought I might go for a walk. I’m not really hungry. Thanks, though.”

Lerona frowned, narrowing her stance. “Anya, you haven’t left the room except to work your volunteer shifts. You need to eat.”

Her wide eyes and downturned lips made Anya want to scream.

“I’ve been eating, Lerona. I just want to walk.” She lied.

Instead of calling her on it, Lerona nodded. “You can go for a walk, but we’re stopping by mess first. You’re going to pick something up to take with you.”

Anya gritted her teeth. “Fine.”

They walked in tense silence from the sleeping quarters to the mess hall. 

“Thalia and Sath have been asking after you,” Lerona flatly stated as they walked through the food lines. Anya picked up one of the rolls and a piece of fruit, shoving them into her pockets. The girls had been friendly with her since she arrived at the base, but they were stationed in the hangar for most of their work detail, and she only ran into them when she actively searched. She hadn’t gone searching for some time.

“Well, tell them I’m sorry I haven’t been around,” Anya sighed. Lerona gathered up her tray and followed her to the outer doors. 

She watched in silence as Anya slipped outside and into the fading light of the late afternoon. Once Anya heard the click of the closing door behind her, she considered emptying her pockets and continuing her walk, but thought better of it and began her search for the hidden pathway at the tree line.

*****

She walked on the outskirts of the forest until the sunlight had completely faded. Using the light that she had taken with her from her rooms, she trudged along in the darkness until she finally spotted the trail. In reality, it was simply an opening in the foliage about the width of a man’s shoulders. Weeds and twigs had been pressed into the dirt by a pair of boots and the rolling body of a droid, but the walkway was indistinct and difficult to follow, especially in the anemic light from her handheld torch. Anya took a breath, pulled her jacket tighter around her middle, and stepped once more into the forest.

Since the last time she had wandered through these trees, the temperature had dropped, and now a puff of warm breath followed her as she climbed over knotted logs and crunched through fallen leaves. The night was silent, and her traipsing echoed around her – harsh on the ears in the absence of other sounds. But the cathartic rhythm of her walking and the concentration required to track the dark path calmed her thoughts, and she soon found herself stepping into the empty clearing. 

The sky was cloudless, and the enclosing cold made it seem nearer than she could remember. If she stretched a hand high enough, she was sure she might touch the stars. 

As before, Anya walked into the center of the hollow and laid in the grass, this time facing the sky. Her stomach roiled angrily at her as she settled into the ground, but she ignored it, instead gazing wide-eyed at the view above. She spread out her arms and ran her palms along the blades of grass, coming away damp. She could feel the moisture soaking through her jacket and her pants, but chose to ignore it, instead remembering looking up at a different sky just a few years ago. 

*****

She was lying on the terrace outside of her home thousands of feet in the sky, attempting to look up at the stars. But the overwhelming city lights blocked out most of them. The few that she could catch glimmering far above drew her eye and made her wish to see them. To protect them. Her mother was a senator for the Republic, and she hated Anya’s desire to fight – believed there might be a peaceful resolution between the New Republic and the First Order. But Anya harbored dreams about the Resistance. She’d met General Organa before she was barred from the Senate, and she thought she represented the truth and the resolution they all sought. 

And so, Anya was often in the courtyard at nightfall, lying and waiting and wishing. 

Her older brother, Kazic, had wandered out to her that night, kneeling down beside her.

“Mother and Father are worried about you, Anya,” he sighed. “You’re doing this every night now.”

“I know they’re worried.”

He exhaled a sharp breath and knitted his brow.

“Then why’re you still laying out here like this? You’re making them sick.”

She turned her head and met his eyes. “Because. I can’t pretend that peaceful discussion and diplomacy are the answer, Kazic. I know that’s satisfying enough for you, but it isn’t for me. Maybe I’m cynical, but I don’t think I am. If we don’t fight, they’re going to win. They’re going to kill everything we love. Do you think Mom’s safe if they decide to attack? She’s a cog in the machine that they hate.”

“Always so dramatic,” he rolled his eyes. “And you think you’re going to be the one to save the universe?”

“Well, if people don’t stand up and fight, no one is going to be saved.”

Kazic was silent for a time. He gazed up at the sky. His hair stirred in the wind as an air taxi passed just by their home. Anya tried to soak it all in. The black curls at the base of his neck, the dark line of his eyebrows, his straight, proud nose. She hoped she could file it away for a future when she knew she would be gone.

Kazic had followed in their mother’s footsteps. He’d been studying law and politics as long as she could remember, and he’d hotly argued against her desire to work for the Resistance at every turn. She tried to tell herself that it was why she had to keep secrets from him. 

“I’ll never understand where all of this fight in you comes from.”

She pushed up on her elbows and raised a brow in defiance. 

“Maybe I got it from my older brother,” she smiled. “But he’s just too much of a lump to use it now.”

Kazic laughed and shook his head at her. His eyes sparkled.

“Interesting.”

He darted out his fingers and tickled her side and she squirmed away.

“Kazic, stop it!”

“It’s all that fight,” he growled, crawling after her and laughing. “I just can’t help it.”

She squealed, rolling onto her hands and knees, trying to get away from his fingers, finding it hard to breathe. She slipped on the smooth fabric of her gown, and Kazic hopped forward and grabbed at her waist, dragging her back to the ground. 

“Durian!” He called. “Come help! I’ve got your sister, and we need to tickle the sense back into her!”

“Stop it, Kazic!” She tried to scream, running out of breath as she laughed. “I mean it! I’m serious!” 

Durian came running, dropping to his knees beside them. “Hold her. I’ll get her feet. She hates that.”

“Stop!” She tried to pull her feet underneath her skirts and away from them, but Kazic had her pinned.

“Mom!” She cried. 

“Call for your mom, huh?” Durian laughed. “And I thought I was supposed to be the baby.”

“Leave your sister alone,” their mother called from the doorway. Her stern voice was betrayed by the wistful smile on her lips. “You’re all much too old to be carrying on like this.”

“Tell that to Anya,” Kazic smiled, pulling Anya to her feet beside him. “She’s the one who started it. So aggressive….and serious.” 

Anya elbowed him sharply in the side and the tickling started all over again, despite Mother’s protests that they should at least take it inside where the neighbors couldn’t watch them.

*****

Her eyes were closed, and tears leaked from their corners. The last time she’d seen her brothers, they’d had no idea they would never see her again. At night, she’d snuck from their home and onto a transport bound for the Resistance base. It had taken her months to work out the system the Resistance had been using to sneak goods and weapons from some of the merchants on Hosnian Prime, but once she had, she planned her escape in secret, biding her time. She paid her way onto the transport and left the planet for the first and last time. Although it scored her in the middle to lie to her family and leave them behind, she believed that it was the right thing to do.

But in the end, despite her aid, the Resistance had been completely unable to prevent their deaths. 

She cried like she’d cried a few nights before, except that the tears came wordlessly – quietly choking her. There could have been no different end. Even if she had stayed behind, her family and everyone she’d ever known would be gone, only she’d be dead with them. She’d saved no one, despite her continual attempts and impassioned arguing that combat was the only viable option. The frustration and anger bubbled up inside of her until she felt she might explode. 

Leaves rustled to her left and she jerked up to a sitting position, wiping her eyes. 

“No. Don’t get up.”

Poe Dameron was standing a few feet inside of the clearing, palms outstretched. He was not carrying a light, but from the glow of the stars, Anya could see that he was wearing casual pants and a warm jacket. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him in anything other than a flight suit. 

“I didn’t know there was anyone else here,” he said, turning back to the path. “I can go.”

“No,” she called, clearing her voice. He turned.

“You don’t have to leave. It’s alright. It’s your spot after all.”

She tried to surreptitiously wipe away more of her tears. “Unless you’d rather you were alone. If that’s the case, I can leave. I’m done.”

He looked at her and shook his head. “I don’t need to be alone.”

“Alright, then.” She laid back down and closed her eyes. She told herself if he were quiet enough, she could almost pretend she was still by herself.

Until he walked over and laid down three feet from her. 

He shifted around trying to find a comfortable spot, eventually resting with his hands on his chest. She squinted one eye to watch as he rolled his neck back and forth and rotated his ankles, every movement eliciting a quiet pop. Finally, he settled, letting out a languid sigh.

“Has anyone told you that your presence is louder than most people’s screaming?” She sniffed.

Dameron laughed, and she could sense him turning to look at her. 

“No. I’ve honestly never heard that one before, but I’m not surprised.”

“Well, it is.”

“I’ll try to remember for next time,” he breathed.

She pushed up onto her elbows and looked down at him. In the darkness, it was hard to make out more than the shine of his teeth and eyes.

“Who said there’s going to be a next time?”

He just smiled back.

“This was an accident. Actually, I should probably leave,” she said, searching around with her hands to find her light. She was openly shivering now that the air had access to the wet clothing on her back.

“No. C’mon. Don’t be like that,” he put his hands behind his head. “I just meant that it’s already happened once before.”

“I know it has,” her teeth chattered. She wasn’t sure if it was more from the cold or the annoyance at that point. 

“I’ll be quiet,” he said, and the whites of his teeth disappeared. “Pilot’s honor.”

She huffed and laid back down, grateful that the chill actually lessened the nearer she was to the ground. The heat radiating from Dameron was also a blessing, although she tried to deny it.

But he wasn’t lying. After his promise of silence, she could only hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, and that too was often drowned out by the quiet melody of the wind through the trees. In fact, once some time had passed, she started to doze, drifting between sleep and wakefulness and walking in lands much different from the clearing where she rested now. 

“You’re snoring.”

She startled awake.

“I don’t snore,” she slurred.

“Mmm. And you know that because you’ve watched yourself sleep before?” He laughed. 

“I don’t snore.” 

He lifted his hands up in surrender. “Then you breathe very loudly when you’re sleeping. Whatever you’d like to call it.”

“I wasn’t asleep!” She considered scooting away from him, but figured that would be childish. 

He was still for a moment, allowing her to stew in the irrational anger that had surfaced since his arrival. She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t talk herself out of it. He had interrupted her, and even though this was basically his little hollow in the woods, she felt as though he’d done her wrong. 

Plus, he smelled like leather and engine grease and something distinctly male, and she liked it, which made her even angrier. 

She took a deep breath and blew it tightly from her nose. “Look. I’m sorry. I know I’m being – confrontational. It’s just. I’m very tired and….a lot of other things….and I was looking for some privacy. But that’s no excuse for me snipping at you.”

A great bird lifted from a tree overhead and landed across the clearing – the quiet flutter of wings.

Dameron stuck out a hand. “Apology accepted, Anya."

When she turned to look him in the eye, the flash of his teeth was back. She offered a tentative hand, and he shook it with his own. It was rough and warmer than she was expecting in the chill.

He was roguish and rakish and ridiculous. All of the r’s at once. She knew she couldn’t handle him, and the quiet lift of his lips spoke to laughter from a life she’d lost long ago and a galaxy away. 

“You remind me of my brothers,” she whispered more to herself than anyone else. And the thought burned painfully in her chest. 

“I’m going to assume that’s a good thing.”

She tried to answer him three times before she could actually find her voice. Even then, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear her.

“Yes. It’s a good thing.”

She exhaled a shaky breath and laid back down so he wouldn’t be able to see the tears that were now falling steadily from her eyes. 

“Anya.” 

She refused to turn and look at him.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to make you cry again.”

“It’s alright,” she tried to wipe the tears away, but they kept coming. Why did she always have to embarrass herself in front of him? “It’s just me being stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he shifted closer so that his arm pressed up against hers. “It’s not.”

She went to wipe her face again, trying to hide it, but he gently reached for her wrist. 

“Stop rubbing them away,” he breathed. “Just let them fall for a while. There’s no shame in it, and it’ll help.”

She laughed sardonically and shook her head. “No, it’s ridiculous. I’ve let them come, and they won’t go away. I’ve tried. I’ve screamed, I’ve sobbed, I’ve ignored the pain – I’ve given into the pain. Nothing is going to help anymore….Nothing can help….I can’t stop….”

The more she talked, the more she lost herself in the tears until she was quietly sobbing.

Dameron slid his hand into hers and rested it between them, giving a soft squeeze and simply holding it as she cried. He didn’t attempt to stop her, and he didn’t try to talk her through it. He let her cry until it finally stopped. 

When it did, she was even more exhausted than she’d been when he’d arrived. A bone aching weariness dragged her closer to the soil. 

“I used to think that the stars were giant eyes in the distance – that they would wink at me when I’d look up at them,” he started, giving her hand another gentle squeeze. “When my grandfather died, my mother told me a story about….about stars. And about how stars were loved ones who had passed away – ‘up high in the sky looking down on us.’”

She sniffed and turned to look at him. He was gazing up, eyes lost to the stars. She could see them shining out of his pupils like little pinpricks of diamond.

“That was why I was so excited when my father first took me flying. I wanted to be a pilot so badly. I thought that if I could fly, I might be able to visit the stars. If I could fly high enough, I might see my old grandad again.” He chuckled. “It was beyond naive.”

He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Even in the darkness, she could see the hollowness that accompanied the flash of teeth. He settled into a stillness for a time, until his whisper rang out in the clearing like a prayer.

“I found this little clearing one day after I’d lost a friend in a firefight. Before that, I was a reckless flyer. I can still be reckless now, but at least I understand what I risk losing. My recklessness has a purpose. It’s targeted.”

His voice dropped, and he glanced at her before returning his gaze to the sky. “He never got to learn that lesson.” 

“But I stumbled in here that night trying to get away from the base for a while. I couldn’t stand the sight of the planes or the flight suits or any of it. I was sick with myself for failing to save him or do something – even though he was on the other side of the battlefield when it happened. And I cried….and I drank….and I cursed everything I could bring to mind. Eventually I ended up in almost the exact same spot we’re laying in right now, drunk as I’ve ever been, and I looked up at the stars.”

He shook his head. 

“And there he was – winking down at me.”

Anya found that she was holding her breath. She was trying to catch every word and sound and expression.

“Every time I lose someone, I come back to this clearing and I give them a star.”

His grip on her hand tightened.

“They each have one. I name them, I keep track of them. I promise not to forget them. My thought was that I couldn’t ever really run out of stars – so many of them. Now I’m starting to wonder if I tempted some vengeful god.” His eyes were twinkling now for an entirely different reason. 

He sniffed, shaking his head and looking over to her.

“So now it’s your turn. Pick your stars. I promise I won’t ever use them for anyone else.”

Anya had to talk herself out of crying again, so overwhelmed with her grief and his generosity and thoughtfulness that she could hardly think straight. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, one more tear escaping and rolling slowly into her hairline.

She looked to the sky and gave his hand a squeeze back.

Off to the left, there was a cluster of four brilliant stars, brighter than the surrounding spots of light and seemingly gathered together against the vastness of the universe. 

She raised her other hand and reached above them, tracing out her four stars. “Those,” she whispered. He tipped his head and followed her finger, nodding along. 

“Good choice. They’re yours now, Anya.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, tears coming faster. She pressed her face into his shoulder, “Thank you so much, Poe.”

His other hand found its way to the back of her head, and his face pressed into her hair. “Don’t mention it.”

As she cried for the thousandth time, she could almost swear she heard him doing the same.


	3. In Comes the Stillness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a little longer to write today, so here's a short chapter three.

Consciousness nibbled at the edge of her awareness, melding with her subconscious thoughts. She was still laying in the courtyard of her home, Kazic kneeling above her, but her dress was sopping wet with dew. The chill gathered on her face, and she could feel the dull itch of grass beneath her. 

“Always so dramatic,” he quipped, features fuzzy and beyond her reach. “And you think you’re going to be the one to save the universe?”

Run, she wanted to scream at him. Get away from here before the cannon is armed. Save Mom and Dad and Durian. But her lips were melded shut. 

Instead, the steady thrum of a heartbeat reverberated around her. Kazic stood, and his feet lifted from the ground, slowly drifting away. She tried to stand and follow, but her dress was stuck to the stones underneath.

Anya woke with a sharp gasp, and her eyes opened before quickly shutting against the early morning sun. It took her a moment to gather her wits, but she soon realized that she was still in the clearing. She must’ve passed out in the night with Poe, and now her head was resting against his chest, the warm smell of him in her every breath. If she squinted her eyes against the light, she could spy his hand resting just below her face on his own stomach, and she could feel the weight of his other hand on her arm. There was little chance that he’d managed to sleep through her startled awakening, but she wanted to untangle them before he woke.

In small increments, ears straining to catch any sound of her own movements, Anya began to lift her head. Once she was completely removed from his chest, she gingerly lifted his hand with her own and set it down. Only then did she turn to look to his face. 

Poe was staring at her with a wry grin, eyes betraying no hint of sleep. How long had he been awake? Had he slept at all?

Anya sighed and sat up straight, any sneaky inclinations gone. 

“‘Morning,” she croaked, before clearing her throat. She knew that the sleep was certainly clinging to her own features, and she hoped her breath wasn’t as rank as she was imagining. She felt incredibly awkward now with him in the light of day, any privacy and intimacy of the darkness gone. 

He smiled wider, crossing his arms and settling down in the grass even further. He obviously didn’t share her discomfort. “Good morning.”

“How long have you been awake?”

He looked up to the sky. “Well, I think I was up shortly after the sun, so…maybe 30 minutes? An hour? I can’t be sure.”

“You let me sleep on you for an hour?” Her voice rose, and she pulled the damp hair away from her neck, tying it into a tight knot. 

“I let you sleep on me all night, actually. I was just awake for the last hour.”

The flood of heat in her cheeks was unmistakable. 

“Besides,” his voice softened. “I knew you needed it.” 

She refused to turn and meet the gaze she knew was leveled at her face. She could feel his eyes burning into her, an added heat to the blush already climbing up her neck. Anya tried to gather herself, taking stock of the wet clothes and the frizzy hair and the dirty streaks on her skin and pants. She felt a weight in her coat pockets and pulled out the bread roll and the fruit from yesterday, offering the fruit to Poe. The roll had grown soggy overnight, and she was nothing if not generous – she’d keep the roll for herself. 

“Thanks, again,” she said as she held it out to him. He quirked a small half-smile and took the fruit, biting into its redness with a crisp snap. She noticed the dark line of stubble that had sprouted on his face overnight and wondered just how often a man like that had to shave.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for sharing the clearing. And the fruit, too.”

She shook her head. “It’s your hideaway. I was the invader last night. I shouldn’t have come here again.”

“Yes,” he sat up, “you should have.”

He brushed some of the grass and dirt off of his clothes, fruit clasped tightly between his teeth, and spoke no further on the issue.

As Anya ate her roll, she looked around and spotted her light resting a few feet away from her in the grass. It had covered over with dampness in the night, and she was sure it would be broken now. A pity, really. The Resistance had given each of its fighters meager supplies when they joined, and she’d tried to keep most of her things in good condition these last years. 

She pushed up from the ground, stretching out any kinks and stiffness, and picked up her light, turning it over in her fingers. When she pressed the activator, it spluttered but never ignited. 

“Oh well,” she sighed, stuffing it into her jacket pocket. 

Poe took another bite of his fruit before chucking the rest across the clearing into the woods. She listened to the echo of its crash against branches and leaves. A few birds emerged from the tops of the trees, startled at the sudden noise.

“Here,” he spoke, standing up and striding over. “Let me look at it.” 

She frowned at him but didn’t move. “It’s saturated. I hardly think a little tinkering is going to fix it.”

“Humor me,” he held out a hand. When she didn’t move, he laughed. “You’re stubborn, you know.”

She tried not to smile back. “Yeah, well. I’m not the only one.”

“Please?” He asked, eyes crinkling. His dark hair was disheveled, standing up in back. Instead of marring his appearance, she felt it make him even more endearing. Gods help her.

“Fine,” she reached into her pocket and handed it over. “But whatever you’re going to try won’t work.”

He grabbed the light and hummed at her, but he was already fixated on his task. He worked with deft fingers, cracking open body of the light and wiping away some of the water inside. As he was studying the contents, Anya remembered her father doing the same with thousands of other instruments around her home. She’d round corners to find her father hunched over in a chair or at the table or in the washroom – studying, repairing. 

“My father is…” she stopped. “My father was…a metalworker and a mechanic. He could fix anything. It was infuriating.”

He laughed, and glanced up from his work, “Infuriating?”

“Well,” she felt the pull of a smile at her lips – rusty for sure. “I can’t fix anything at all, so I guess I was just jealous.”

He looked up from the light, snapping the pieces back into place and handing it over. When she pressed the activator, it lit up as it always had before.

“Does this mean I’m infuriating, too?” he asked, grin firmly in place.

She smiled, shutting off the light and slipping it back into her pocket. “You were always infuriating. Now you’re just being cocky.”

“Oh, ho!” He rubbed his hands together. “You’ll have to try harder, Anya. I’ve been called much worse before. I actually take pride in my arrogance.”

She shook her head, looking for the path back to the base. “I would never have guessed.”

He must’ve trailed her line of sight because he started gathering himself. “Yeah, we should probably head back. It’s only a few minutes until the base is awake and everyone is working. Thankfully, I’m not expected at the hangar until the afternoon.” 

And just like that, the momentary spell was broken. Reality came crashing back down. 

“We need to go, then. I have first shift this morning.”

He nodded, and gestured for her to lead the way.

For most of the trek back, they were silent. She felt as though something elemental had shifted within her. Where for so long there was a sucking emptiness, pulling her into its depths bit by bit, she now felt still. The emptiness was still there – unavoidable. But she wasn’t helpless in the face of it. 

As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew it was likely due to Poe and his help the previous night. The thought of becoming dependent on another person so quickly after losing everyone terrified her. Even still, she was drawn to him. 

Anya continually told herself not to look at him as she scouted out the path ahead. Finally, unable to contain it much longer, she turned and gestured with a hand, “Your hair. In the back…it’s…”

Poe knitted his brow and reached up, feeling the tips of the strands standing attention at the top. He laughed, smoothing them down with a few rough strokes. “Thanks.”

After another moment, he turned to her again. “How long were you planning on letting me walk around like that?”

Anya smirked. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything at all.”

“Hm,” he grinned, increasing speed until he was slightly ahead of her. “Good to know. I guess I won’t tell you about the dirt on your face, then.” 

“What?” She stopped, lifting a hand to her cheek. She couldn’t feel anything. 

Poe turned, laughing. “No. Not there. Here,” he pointed to his own forehead. 

She couldn’t feel anything there, either. 

He shook his head. “A little more to the left.” 

“Are you messing with me?” 

His dark eyes were serious for only the briefest of seconds before he started laughing again. “Yes. I am. There’s no dirt.”

She shoved a finger at his face and kept moving past him. “You’re mean, you know that? I was trying to be helpful.”

He picked up speed beside her once more. “Only when it suited you.”

“And how did that suit me?”

“You needed a reason to strike up a conversation again.”

Anya wasn’t expecting to be so transparent. His brown eyes were singing at her, but she wasn’t going to look at them – at any of him – his smug grin, the shadow of his stubble, the curl of unruly dark hair on his forehead. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

They’d walked for another half minute before she finally responded. The leaves and twigs were crackling beneath their feet.

“You’re not wrong.”

“Infuriating, then?” He asked, holding out a hand to help her over one of the fallen trees on the path. She bypassed him and grappled over it herself, proud when she was able to pull it off relatively gracefully.

“Cocky,” she replied, walking on ahead. He laughed.

“I like this,” he smiled, climbing over the tree as though it were only a branch and catching up to her. “You – snarky and sarcastic and stubborn.”

“That’s a lot of s’s,” she said, instead of acknowledging the meaning behind the words. She wasn’t ready for anything of the sort, even though he’d helped her to regain some semblance of her former self. Not to mention the things she’d already heard from some of the women on the base. Best to keep him a little further than arm’s length away. 

He must’ve taken the hint because he didn’t remark on it any longer.

When they broke through the trees and into the grass before the airfield, it was obvious that they were later than they’d judged. Workers were up and moving around the half-constructed planes, the day in full-swing. She could no longer see the smoke from the fires in the mess hall, meaning that they’d clearly missed breakfast, as well.

“Oh, no,” she breathed, picking up speed. “We’re really late. I’m really late. I’m…”

“Calm down,” he called, reaching out for her arm. “I’m sure everything is just fine.”

She wanted to pull away, but instead shook her head. “It might be alright for Poe Dameron to show up late to his post, but we’re not all so valuable. Besides, I need to be there…to help. To keep gathering more intel…to…”

She’d run out of reasons. She just knew she needed to be there. Now. 

“Poe!” came a bark from the airfield. They turned, and Anya spotted Finn, the ex-Stormtrooper who’d been vital to their recent defeat of the First Order. They’d never met, but she knew just about all there was to know about him. Including that he’d grown close to Poe since his arrival at the base and Rey’s departure. In fact, she believed Poe had been training him on flight and other combat since he had recovered and moved out of medical. 

He jogged over to them from one of the X-wings – still a little unsteady – and straightened his leather jacket when he finally came to a stop. 

“What’re you doing out here? Mer’s been looking for you…says she needs help with the engine on number 36.”

He noticed Anya standing there, but dragged his eyes back to Poe. “We’ve been looking for you, but you weren’t in the sleeping quarters or mess.”

“Yeah, I…” Poe started, looking at Anya. “Finn, this is Anya Sayul – Research and Intelligence. Anya, this is Finn – Crummy pilot and former Stormtrooper. But he’s getting there.” 

Finn shook his head, and offered a hand out to Anya. “It’s nice to meet you. Sorry you’ve been stuck talking to his arrogant mouth for however long.”

Anya actually had to suppress a laugh, but shot and amused grin back at Poe. “It’s alright. Hasn’t broken me yet. Nice to meet you too, Finn. But I’ve got to go, actually. I’m late to my post.”

“Oh, okay, then,” he dropped her hand, moving closer to Poe. “It really was nice to meet you, though. Good luck with – with work and stuff, I guess.”

“Thanks,” Anya pulled a smile, aiming one more glance at Poe before turning and hurrying toward the hangar.

“I’ll see you around, Anya,” Poe’s voice carried over to her. 

Instead of responding, she simply turned and lifted her shoulders in an impartial shrug. 

As she was ducking under one of the X-wings, Finn’s voice floated past. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” 

It was quickly followed by the thud of a sharp cuff to the side of a head and a pain-filled grunt. Anya tried not to laugh as she entered the hangar on her way to command. 

Instead, she silently pleaded over and over for no one to have missed her presence for however long she’d been foolishly absent.


	4. The Fear That Burns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the extremely long wait between chapters this time. Life and work have been crazy, so I've had to work on this one during the last couple of hours before bed every night -- passing out on my laptop most early mornings. I've also been holding onto it for an irrationally long time...writing...rewriting...editing. I want to do right by this story and these characters so badly that I think it's making me a little insane. So it's time to finally let it go. It will never be perfect, continual attempts be damned.
> 
> The comments that I've gotten on this fic are absolutely lovely. They give me life. I appreciate every one of them. 
> 
> So here it is. Thank you for reading.

Chapter 4

She hadn’t been missed. In fact, she was able to quietly slip into her station at Command with almost no one noticing. If Lerona hadn’t given her the side-eye from across the room, she might have assumed she’d gotten off free and clear; but she would hear about this once her shift was over. 

“You never returned from your walk last night, and then you were late today.”

Lerona was sitting on her bunk in their room with a book when Anya arrived after work. She dropped the thin volume on her lap and crooked an eyebrow. “Where were you? I asked around, and no one else saw you come back. Did you sleep in the woods, or what?”

Anya didn’t answer. Sneaking around this issue without mentioning Poe was going to be difficult.

“I’m really worried about you, Anya. I’m trying to help you out, but I feel like everything I’m doing isn’t working. You’re not the same, and I know things have been difficult for you recently….I can’t even begin to understand. But…”

She trailed off. 

Anya hadn’t moved. She stood waiting in the doorway for her to reach a conclusion, but the remnants of her warm voice simply faded between them, and she never did.

“Yes.”

Silence hung for a minute. Lerona’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Yes, what?”

“I slept in the woods last night.”

“I was joking.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m not joking. I fell asleep in the woods last night. Nothing happened. I was fine.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Lerona. But I’m fine. I don’t want you to keep worrying about me. I think….” Anya stepped across the room and slumped onto her own bunk. The automatic door glided closed behind her. “I think I’m actually…improving. Getting better. I’m not so foggy anymore, if that makes sense?”

Lerona sat, pushing up on her arms until she was facing Anya. 

“Yeah, it makes sense. I’ve noticed you slowly coming back recently. For a while there, you weren’t doing anything to take care of yourself.”

She wrung her hands and sat completely up on her bunk, eyes far away. “I know I was getting on your nerves, but if I didn’t interfere every now and then, I think you would have drifted away completely.”

It was then that Anya realized just how awful she’d made these last weeks for her friend. Undoubtedly, she was suffering herself, but she put Lerona through unnecessary stress with her desperate depression. It’s not that she could have experienced less pain, but she probably should have made Lerona’s life easier by attending to her own needs. 

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, rubbing at a dull headache forming above her eye. 

“For?” Lerona got up and walked to the washroom, locking the door in the open position. Anya heard the water running. 

“For being such a pain. For making you worry.”

Lerona’s curly head poked around the doorway. “I get it, Anya. I know why you were acting the way that you were. I’m not mad about it. I just wish you would look out for yourself more.”

She disappeared around the corner again, voice echoing through the bare washroom and into the sleeping quarters. “Regardless of what you think, we do really need you in the fight. And you haven’t had the same fire since that day. We need our Anya back.”

Although she didn’t necessarily believe Lerona’s claims, she couldn’t deny that she wished she could go back, too. It seemed, with a little interference from a certain pilot, she was slowly gathering up the pieces of herself that had shattered everywhere the moment her home was erased. She just hoped that she wouldn’t come to rely on his help. She couldn’t be dependent on someone who would probably leave her – whether he wanted to or not. 

*****

Five days after Anya’s discussion with Lerona in their quarters, Anya hadn’t run into Poe once. She’d been avoiding the clearing even on her bad days, trying to pull herself out of the dark pit in her chest without any intervention from anyone else. The result was that she began to numb herself to everything around her, as she had done immediately after the death of her family when she needed to remain focused on the fight. She avoided thinking about her past, she turned away from friends, she carried through the days’ tasks on autopilot. The blinders that she built for herself kept away the pain, but she knew they couldn’t be healthy. 

Lerona walked up beside her one afternoon on the way to mess, bumping her shoulder playfully. “You want to eat today with us? Thalia and Sath should be getting off of their shift about now, so you could see them for a bit?”

Anya was shaking her head before Lerona even finished her sentence. She didn’t think she could handle the pitying glances today, or the way that Thalia and Sath would share silent conversations of concern about her. As much as she did miss them, she was afraid they would chip away at the careful façade she’d been building the last few days. “I don’t know Lerona. I was thinking I might eat and walk today. The….sitting….during shift. It’s starting to make my knees ache. I need to move around.” She plastered a stiff grin on her face.

It was a transparent excuse. But Lerona seemed more than happy to accept the lie she knew Anya was giving. 

“Okay. I’ll see you later, then?” She asked instead, offering a quick smile.

“Yep. I’ll see you later.”

Lerona broke off from her when they entered mess, heading over to a table. Anya kept her head down and walked through the food lines, grabbing a handful of dried fruits and another roll. She’d been eating more often, but she certainly wasn’t overdoing it.

Once she’d gathered her midday meal, she wandered through the base, occasionally taking a bite of food but mostly avoiding eye contact with the random passerby. It wasn’t long before she found herself at the entrance to the hangar. If Poe hadn’t already headed for food on the break and he’d taken the morning shift, he would be inside. For whatever reason, she stood silently staring at the entranceway, shifting from one foot to the other. Should she go inside? Why did she even want to go inside?

One of the mechanics strolled into the walkway from the hangar, giving her a nod as he passed. She tried to look as though she hadn’t just stopped in the middle of a walkway to ogle at a door, nodding quickly back. Through the momentary opening in the automatic door, she spied Poe at his X-Wing across the massive building in his orange flight suit. He appeared to be alone, walking underneath the nose of the ship. It was all she could see before the door slid shut again and she was left loitering once more in the walkway. Solitary and awkward.

Anya shoved a fist into her eye and rubbed, hard. She felt like a little girl again, chasing around another Senator’s boy while their parents argued politics in the meeting halls. She couldn’t remember his name, but she remembered those big brown eyes. He was just the first in a line of men throughout her life that had garnered her attention, but none of her previous relationships were ever serious. Anya was always so focused on other aspects of her life that companionship was never a priority. Ever since her arrival on Q’Dar, men were the furthest thing from her mind.

And it made this even more ridiculous. Why was he making her so giddy? She didn’t even know the man. If gossip could be credited with any validity, he’d worked his way through half of the female Resistance force, and some of the male force (according to a few whispers she’d heard months before when his name was only a passing familiarity). His “I’ll see you around,” a week prior was certainly not any kind of promise or invitation. Yes, she’d shown him more of her pain than anyone else – and he’d even expressed a deeper understanding of her struggles than she’d imagined – but nothing that had happened explained this reaction she was having. They were in the middle of a war!

Gods curse her legs for even leading her to this spot. 

But she couldn’t deny that as annoying as she claimed he was, as arbitrary as this all seemed, he was the only person that had made her smile – laugh – since that day. And she missed feeling alive. He warmed some of the ice inside of her.

She was walking through the hangar door before she even realized she’d taken a step. Once it skated closed behind her, she immediately wished to turn back. She couldn’t write this off as an accident. She’d gone out of her way to end up here – this wasn’t a coincidental rendezvous in the woods. He would know it, too. 

Anya glanced around. The hangar was empty of workers; almost everyone else had already headed out between the shift change, and the next shift had yet to arrive. The only stragglers were those who made it a habit of working late, and she wasn’t surprised that Poe appeared to be one of them. 

He hadn’t spotted her yet. From the angle she was at, she was hidden behind a half-constructed plane. Most of the cockpit and parts of the wings were missing. Anya stepped closer to the ship, peeking under the body to watch as Poe moved around his own workspace. Her knowledge of mechanics was very limited, as she’d told Poe during their last visit, and he was tinkering under the front of the spacecraft, holding parts of whose function she had absolutely no idea. When he reached up into the body of the ship, his hand came back dirty with dark grease. Was he near the engine? 

Anya watched as he squinted up in frustration, rubbing at his forehead with the back of his wrist, unknowingly drawing a black, muddy line just above his eyebrow. She nearly laughed, but instead sucked in a breath unexpectedly, shocked at the pleasant ache in her chest. How did he do that? Something that should have made him ridiculous – forgettable – made him even more endearing. She marveled at it, ignoring the part of her brain that was imagining walking up very close and wiping it away herself. Breathing his breath, meeting his eyes, stroking the loose curl off of his temple. 

If she wasn’t so stubborn, she could admit to herself that she already sounded like a lost cause.

Poe dropped the extra parts on a metal bench, unzipping the front of his flight suit and tying the top around his waist. Just as he began wiping off his hands on a dirty rag he’d retrieved from a pocket, the deep clearing of a throat rang out like blaster fire behind her. 

Anya jumped out of her skin, ramming the top of her head into the ship with a metallic thud and dropping the remaining fruit in her hand. It took all of her strength to suppress a pained yelp. She swore that her jaw had momentarily dipped inside of her ribcage and she’d tasted her lungs. 

Anya spun around to the face of a Bothan pilot, his long mouth downturned into a disapproving frown. It might be worrying if his eyes weren’t also mischievously twinkling. He barely reached her shoulder, but his presence and his knowledge of recent events made it feel as though he towered over her. 

The pilot didn’t strike up a conversation, as she had hoped. Instead, he stood silently waiting for a confession or an excuse – she wasn’t sure which. His thin lips pulled into an endlessly tickled smirk. All he was missing was some stern foot tapping. 

Between the pain in her head and the embarrassment eating her insides, she couldn’t breathe.

“I was just…um. And then, I saw….you know. And I…”

He crossed his arms. “Of course.”

“I, you know. I…” She couldn’t find the words for an excuse, and the burning in her face was pulling most of her concentration. How could she get it to stop? How could she ask this poor pilot not to report this to Poe as soon as she crawled away into a sarlacc pit to die?

“It’s rude to spy.”

“I, yeah. I know. I’m very sorry. Look,” she took a deep breath. “I know that I shouldn’t have been watching like that, but I was trying to figure out…”

He interrupted in his accented voice. “I cannot promise he will not bite, but he is usually a gentleman. If you would like to go over and introduce yourself, you might find out.”

As she was debating whether or not to reveal that she already knew him – “…I’m not some creepy stalker…” – he cracked a smile, picking up a tool from his own workbench. 

“Go on, then.” He nodded his furry head in Poe’s direction and waved her off, one long ear flicking in amusement. “He needs a distraction. Boy is in here day and night.” 

Defeated, Anya turned to step under the broken X-Wing and over to Poe, but not before she glanced back once more. “Please don’t…you know,” she gestured with her thumb at Poe. 

“Oh, shayl. Your secret is safe. Go.”

She gave a weak smile in response, but he was already turning back to the work he’d likely left only minutes before, humming a quiet tune. 

Nervous, confused, embarrassed, Anya tiptoed across the vast hangar to where Poe had returned to his labors under the X-Wing. She made it mere steps away before he finally heard her approach. His head popped out from inside the body of the plane expectantly, and when he saw her, his eyes crinkled in a genuine grin.

“Anya. What are you doing here?”

“I…” she had not pre-planned a response, and for a moment she panicked. She couldn’t say she was looking for him, could she? “I was passing the hangar and saw you inside. Hadn’t spoken to you in a while. Just wanted to see how you were doing.”

It was unconvincing to her own ears, but he didn’t call her bluff.

Instead, he pulled the rag from his pockets again, wiping his fingers and moving over to a seat by his workbench. With both hands, he gestured for her to sit, but she waved him off, so he plopped down himself.

“I’m alright. Busy. We’ve nearly rebuilt about 40% of the destroyed fleet, but we’ve got thousands of hours of work ahead of us. I was just…” he nodded to the X-Wing resting just above them, drawing in a breath “…trying…to improve some things on my own ship during the break. Something is off with the steering – keeps pulling left on my turns. Thought I might take some time to figure it out now before it does it when I really can’t afford an error.”

She was listening intently, but she found herself spending much more time studying his face than his words. The almost invisible freckles on his nose and cheeks, the ever-present stubble, the tiny scar under his right eye. 

When she didn’t respond straightaway, too lost in her own searching, he smiled knowingly. “And how are you?”

Immediately she understood that he didn’t simply want to know about work at Command – he wanted to know how she was doing. Anya had the surprising urge to cry, but shook it away.

“I’m…okay,” she leaned back against the workbench, trying to find the right words. “I’m coming back to myself, I think, but it’s not a….a continuous thing? If that makes sense? I have my good and my bad days.”

“And today?” He asked.

“Today is…” she looked at his smile. “Today is a pretty good day.” 

His smile grew, reaching and crinkling his eyes again, and he stood to grab a tool on the workbench beside her, momentarily entering her space before retreating once more. “I’m glad.”

With the back of his free hand, he rubbed at some perspiration on his forehead and spread the grease above his brow halfway across his face. She covered her mouth to suppress a sudden giggle.

“What?” He asked, eyebrows drawn together.

“Would you believe me if I said you have oil or something all over your face?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious. “I don’t know. Might just be payback.”

He’d remembered, and she couldn’t deny that it made the blood sing in her veins.

She smiled. “Well, you do. I promise I’m not lying.”

“Where?” He asked, reaching for his dirty rag again.

She pointed to her own forehead, dragging her finger around a large section that covered most of the upper-half of her face.

“That bad?” He asked, laughing.

She nodded, laughing back.

He wiped the rag over his face, missing some spots here and there, but cleaning away a majority of the mess.

“Got it?” 

“Yeah,” she grinned. “A lot of it, anyways.”

“Where did I miss?” 

“A few places, but it’s nothing too bad. You just look like you’ve been working. Nothing that’s going to surprise anyone around here.”

He nodded, tossing the messy scrap of cloth on the chair he’d recently vacated. “Does it surprise you?”

She wasn’t sure where the question was coming from or where it was going, but she could sense that it was an important one. “No. It doesn’t. Why would it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he shrugged, moving back to the X-Wing and closing up the panel that he’d opened on the bottom to reach the nuts and bolts of the aircraft. “Some people in other sections seem to think I jump in the X-Wing during the missions and then come back to mess around until the next big fight. That I spend more of my time sharing bunks with other workers than I spend putting in the real labor.”

His eyes were trained on the panel that he was fixing back to the body of the plane, so Anya was free to blush without his attention focused solely on her.

“No,” she cleared her throat. “Well, I mean. I can’t speak for everyone else, but I don’t usually just assume things about people if I can avoid it.”

She silently shamed herself for doing just that.

“So I’m not crazy, then? It’s something they’ve been whispering about me?” He turned back, a smirk firmly in place. 

“I…” she tried to shake her head, but sighed. “I mean, yeah. I might have heard a thing or two about it.”

He nodded, hands resting on his hips. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me so much, then?”

She couldn’t believe he was diving right into it. Although she couldn’t lie – the rumors about him had affected her reaction to his fleeting advances at the end of their last meeting – her reservations about drawing close to anyone else were much more complicated. Nor had she been entirely certain that he’d harbored romantic notions about her this whole time, anyway.

He stepped a little closer, looking down and waiting patiently for her response, one that she wasn’t completely willing to give. 

“Poe, it’s not that I don’t find you…” she stopped, cutting off the dangerous train of thought. He raised a curious brow. Close one, Anya. 

“I just. It’s a lot more complex than any silly worry about promiscuity.”

“Promiscuity?” He smiled.

“I don’t actually think that you sleep around, or whatever it is that people say about you. It has more to do with my own problems right now. And I wasn’t avoiding you specifically. I’ve been more…generally avoiding everyone.”

He hummed, leaning with his hip against the workbench next to her. His tone was condescending when he finally questioned, “And how’s that working out for you?”

A twinge of anger twisted in her gut. “Okay,” she huffed, pushing away from the workbench. “I don’t know that that’s any of your business, really. Or that it’s such an unbelievable reaction for me to have.”

He turned to face her. “Anya, I didn’t mean to…I just meant, you do so much better when you’re…”

He paused, gripping the suit tied at his waist. “I honestly can’t say I even understand what you’re going through, and I shouldn’t just draw my own conclusions. I’m sorry. It was –“ he shook his head. 

“When you didn’t show again, it was…a blow to my pride. I thought we’d…”

She didn’t entirely care to hear his reasoning. There was a muted ringing in her ears. 

“I’m – being an ass right now, aren’t I?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re wrong about that,” she backed away another step and crossed her arms, digging fingernails into her sides. 

He laughed, running a hand through the messy curls on the top of his head.

“I guess I deserved that one.”

She didn’t respond. 

“Would you,” he wiped his palms on the pants of his flight suit. “Do you think you’d ever want to try to help me understand? Because I’d be willing….”

Anya shook her head and clenched her jaw. The conversation that was supposed to revive her was quickly spinning out of control. That would mean dismantling her wall again. It would mean opening herself up to all of the emotions and fears that she’d been avoiding – stepping back into the pit and inhaling the poison. 

“Poe,” she gritted out between her teeth. “I can’t.”

She could feel herself retreating again, slamming and locking the doors. Letting the world around her disappear behind a comfortable fog. 

Poe reached out, not touching her, but offering her the option of contact if she wanted. “Anya, I’m sorry. I just thought that maybe if I offered – “

Loud footsteps came clapping under Poe’s X-Wing, and he dropped his arms back to his sides. 

“Hey, Poe. I’m trying to fix something over there on 36 again – it’s a pain in the ass – and I have no idea what I’m doing anymore. Oh, hey Anya. Good to see you again.”

The sincerity of it was like a stab to the chest.

Finn was wearing his ever-present leather jacket over a standard-issue flight suit. It was unzipped to the navel, revealing a black t-shirt. His bouncy joy always reminded her of an excited toddler. She couldn’t handle him right now, though. She couldn’t handle this. The façade was collapsing around her.

Anya quickly unwrapped her tightly crossed arms, drew in a shaky breath, and rearranged her face into a cool mask with a pleased smile. 

“Finn. Good to see you, too. I was just getting ready to head back for a double in Command.”

Poe shook his head, standing up from his careful lean against the metal bench. “Anya, you don’t have to…” 

“Nope. It’s alright,” she smiled again, although she could feel the fragility of it – the way it went wobbly at the edges. The way her hands were shaking.

“So, it was good to talk to you, Finn. I…hope everything is going well for you…your training and recovery and everything.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” his voice dropped, and he was looking quickly between Anya and Poe as though he finally realized he’d interrupted something much more serious than he’d planned. He looked disappointed in himself - another shard in her chest.

“Anya, please don’t….” Poe started again.

She looked him dead in the eyes, feeling the leaden detachment in her own gaze and reading his concern. “Poe, I’ll see you around, alright?” She didn’t wait for his response. Instead, she headed through the hangar’s large entrance to the outdoors without looking back. When she reached the edge of the airfield, she broke into a sprint.

*****

She was halfway up the trail to the clearing when she heard the crunching of footsteps behind her in the woods. There was only one other person to her knowledge with access to this path, so it had to have been him. She picked up the pace and refused to turn around.

“Anya!”

It was ricocheting through the forest, and her heart was fluttering painfully against her ribcage. Her foot caught on a divot in the soil and she fell, crashing to the ground and tearing the skin on her elbows in the sharp rocks peppered around her. But she recovered as quickly as possible, pushing back onto her feet and regaining her stride. She relished the sting. It was disrupting the violent emotions and memories seeping into her conscious thoughts: a blue sky; bright clusters of explosions; gasps and muted screams of terror; a shooting pain through her very center that accompanied the sudden loss of everything.

She wasn’t sure she why she was running – he knew where she was going – but she couldn’t see through fear and adrenaline to reason. She had to get to the clearing.

“Damnit, Anya. Stop!”

She couldn’t stop, had to keep going. She hurdled through the last of the trees and into the sunlight, tripping to a halt in the middle of the clearing and falling to her knees. The dew that had been there a week ago in the morning hadn’t lasted until this day’s afternoon, so the scrapes on her legs made contact with coarse, dry grasses. She was thankful for the distraction of the pain. 

She could hear him tearing through the woods behind her as quickly as she’d come – leaves cascading, branches breaking, the flurry of terrified birds. 

She closed her eyes and focused on regaining the comforting emptiness – the solace of the last week – but it was slipping through her fingers like smoke, revealing technicolor images that brought scorching tears to her cheeks. She listened to the echoes of his approach as a means of blocking out the unwanted noise bubbling just under her skin. 

When the movement stopped, she knew that he’d arrived. She could hear his pained breathing just outside of her own harsh panting. 

“Anya….”

She shook her head again. She felt like she’d been shaking it for as long as she could remember. 

His footsteps ended just behind her. 

“Anya.”

His voice was rough from the screaming. How many times had he called her name? Had anyone heard?

“Anya,” he must have been on his knees, too. His hands were resting on her arms.

“Whenever I close my eyes, I see them,” she whispered, voice cracking. Admitting a sin that she’d even tried hiding from herself.

More tears escaped her closed lashes, and with them came the flood. Walls crumbled and doors shattered in its wake.

“Poe, they’re all gone. On Hosnian Prime. My family. Everyone. I….It’s all my fault…I’m all alone…” she fell backward, and he pulled her against him. The safety of his grip felt not unlike her father’s: calloused hands, strong fingers, sinewy arms. She imagined they were the only thing holding her splintered pieces together.

“I…can’t…breathe…” she shuddered. 

He tried to hush her, telling her she wasn’t alone – he was with her – pressing his face next to hers. As she rested limply against him, she told him everything through quiet sobs and half-breaths. 

And he listened.

*****

The sun had disappeared behind the trees in the clearing, casting long shadows across their faces before she first wondered about the time. 

For hours, Poe had held her slumped against him while the cascade of memories and fears and confessions flowed through her. When his knees couldn’t take it any longer, he’d pulled her to the soil, bones creaking, and kept listening. He never interrupted without invitation, and he held her gently against him, guiding her breathing with the rise and fall of his own. His steady presence helped to calm her, but even after the tears retreated, she continued talking until her throat was raw– sharing all of their stories. Trying to preserve the history of an entire family – an entire solar system – with the inadequate words and fragile snatches of memories from an imperfect, broken mind. 

She told him about the extravagant Senate meetings she could hardly understand as she crawled around her mother’s silken skirts. About the view from the balcony of her family’s quarters in the administrative tower. About Kazic’s chipped tooth (that she’d given him with a swift kick to the face during a tussle over a particularly heated game of Dejarik), and the texture of Durian’s feather-like newborn hair the first time she’d cradled his tiny body on her parents’ bed. About her father’s toolkit, the one he strapped to his belt and often lost in the bottom of his supplies. He hadn’t known that she was usually the one who hid it there so that he would stay home from work. 

About the smell of the wind on an air-taxi: “fresh and metallic at the same time.” About the young cabby who’d once shown her a holo- of his children smiling and waving, giving him love on repeat during the stretches of his shifts. 

About the position of the stars from the balcony where she’d lain for hours dreaming of the fight she knew was worlds away from her mother’s council halls. About deciding to leave. About stowing away in the transport and suddenly realizing how terrified she was of interplanetary spaceflight – how she got sick in an empty storage bin through most of the ride while she hid in the cargo hold watching her entire world shrink behind her in the distance for the very last time. 

He laughed at the funny memories and grew silent at the others. Whenever she fell mute at the enormity of her own loneliness and her loss and began to withdraw inside once more, he gently nudged her forward with curiosity-filled questions. 

And she answered.

What she’d been like growing up with two brothers as playmates – her fight and her competitive nature. Her stubborn refusal to admit defeat in anything, triviality be damned. She’d once stood on a chair, arm outstretched with the last dinner biscuit for two-and-a-half hours so that Kazic couldn’t have it after he’d insulted her ability to out-eat him. When he finally conceded to her clear superiority, she’d broken the biscuit in half and given him the larger portion. Poe laughed about that one for several minutes, and she silently smiled against his shaking chest.

“Little Anya was a spitfire,” he’d whispered, eyes glowing with the stars.

She also told him about the way it felt to watch your world explode like a pinprick of candle flame in the sky: “like being torn apart from the inside and only feeling the pressure. Having to completely retreat from your own vision because the thing in front of you is so incomprehensible that you can’t continue…breathing…if you attempt to watch.”

The stars were winking down at them before she finally lost steam, before she’d bled the last of her life out for him to read. 

He’d absorbed it all, and for a time, he shared as well. In drained stillness, she listened to the vibration of his stories with an ear to his chest. He told her about his family – how he’d been born into the Resistance. His training to be a pilot, and the few flying failures he’d had when he was young, like the time he’d crashed his father’s speeder bike into a merchant’s junker stand trying to street race a Whiphid thug for petty cash. “I’m a natural,” he’d laughed, “but even a natural’s got to start somewhere. My father understood, I think. But he was so angry I almost killed myself that I wasn’t even allowed to look at anything with an engine for months.”

As he spoke – about his family, his desire to join the Resistance, his successes and shortcomings – Anya’s fear grew. While she giggled along with him, she could feel herself growing more and more attached. But she tried to push her worries aside. She wanted to be in the moment. She wanted to feel alive again, even if it always brought her back to painful memories.

Poe’s warm breath puffed out in humid clouds by her face when she asked him the question that had been running through her mind since the last of the embers of her solar system had faded in the sky that day. 

“How could he do it? How could a man just….like that? Sign off the lives of…billions of…”

She stopped when she felt the hitch in his otherwise steady breathing. 

She waited.

“Anya,” his voice was thick and far away. “I don’t know if he is a man anymore. His mind is a jumble of raw anger and hatred and…confusion. I can’t even begin to describe…”

She propped herself up on her elbow, wincing when the dried cuts on her skin strained and likely tore. He wasn’t looking at her anymore – in fact, he wasn’t looking anywhere. His eyes were screwed shut against some memory rioting behind his eyelids. 

And she cursed herself for forgetting. She’d read the reports: he’d been held captive and tortured for hours – beaten and questioned - only breaking when Kylo Ren had ripped strategic information from his brain using the Force. She couldn’t even imagine what that must feel like, having that thing rooting around in your deepest thoughts. 

She reached up with her free hand, running the pad of her thumb across the faint scar under his eye. 

“Poe?” 

He relaxed, eyes opening.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…”

He shook his head, reaching up and trapping her hand against his cheek with one of his own. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing beneath her wrist. “It’s alright. Bastard might’ve been the only person in the entire universe who could’ve gotten that out of me. I think the fact that I lost the battle bothers me more than….well. You know.”

The strain in his voice showed her just how untrue it was.

Where he’d pressed her hand to his face, she could feel the brush of his lips against her palm – the scratch of his stubble. Despite the shadows in his eyes and the exhaustion in her bones, she could feel the warm thrill of excitement pumping lazily through her veins. Before she could do anything foolish, she laid back down next to him, gently sliding her hand from his grasp. 

He sighed, but he didn’t try to call her back.

They stargazed in silence, and she sought out his hand with her own, interlacing her fingers through his, worrying the callouses on his palm. 

“How many?” She asked, not taking her eyes away from the stars. She knew he would understand. 

He let out a heavy breath, and without hesitation: “73.”

He’d remembered them all, giving each a space in his nighttime sky. Intellectually, she knew that there were enough stars for all of those that had lost their lives on her home system, but she couldn’t possibly name them all herself. How many people were now forgotten forever? Mothers, fathers, Kazics, Durians? Cheerful cabbies and smiling children?

He squeezed her hand and turned to face her. “Just because you couldn’t save them all doesn’t mean you failed, Anya. You know that, right?”

She shook her head, ready to argue with him, but he cut off her protests.

“No. Listen, Anya. We’re still fighting. We can end this the right way, and their deaths don’t have to be meaningless.”

She laughed at his optimism, but it was hollow and warped. He flinched.

“Yeah? And how many more galaxies are you going to have to name before we get there?” He clenched his jaw, but her fears were burning through her, and she finally gave them a voice: “How many am I going to have to name when your reckless streak gets you killed, too? Huh?”

She felt like shoving him away. Instead, she sat up and snarled down at him. “Pick one, Poe. I guess I’d like to know your preference before I randomly choose one myself.”

Fresh tears were rolling down her cheeks as she watched his eyes fall closed. He rubbed a hand over his face, but he didn’t yet pull his other one from her grasp. In her fright and her anger, she’d let slip just where her true worries lie; she couldn’t draw close to him only to have him torn away, too. She couldn’t do it all over again. 

“So that’s it, then? That’s why you’re afraid of being around me, isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer. 

“You’re hiding away from everyone because you might lose us? Anya, that’s….” he finally let go of her hand, sitting up. His voice betrayed more contempt than she was expecting. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” She stopped just short of yelling. “How is that ridiculous? Look at me! I’m barely here anymore, Poe. I’ve said goodbye to so much of myself that I’m a walking corpse on most days. And you think I’m stupid for holding on to the few bits of sanity that I still have?”

“Yes,” he faced her, gesturing wildly with his hands. “You’re being blind. It’s all we have that they don’t, and you’re pushing it away! Willingly! Can’t you see that? Why do you think that I torture myself with this place? I’m constantly trying to remind myself what it is that I’m fighting for – who I’ve lost…what it all means.”

She stood up, ignoring her complaining joints, and paced away from him. 

“Anya, I’ve…” he jumped up, too, but she refused to turn and look at him. “I know how empty they are. They don’t connect with anyone or anything. All they want is power, control, domination, but it’s meaningless! They don’t have the most important thing.”

He wasn’t making any sense. And she was tired of him screaming in her general direction. He had no understanding of the crippling pain that struck her at odd hours of the day – how much she wished she could avoid it – cost be damned. 

She spun around, rushing him, pressing a finger to his chest. “Really? The most important thing? And what’s that Poe? Huh? Enlighten me. What’s so important that it’s worth—”

He swallowed her angry words, pulling her the rest of the way into his body and covering her lips with his own. He stole the breath from her lungs, and her only complaint was a quiet whine before she melted into his hold. 

He palmed her cheeks, wiping away the tears and running his hands down her neck – into her hair, dragging her even closer. 

“This,” he whispered against her, and she shivered, the fire in her blood shocking a chill across her skin. Her senses, so dull for so long, ignited all at once. The warm pressure of his body against hers, the taste of his lips, his overwhelming scent…

Her fingers had already tangled into his curls, anchoring her as he chased her lips, bowing her back. The vibrations of his groan tickled against her mouth, and she matched it with a dazed moan of her own.

Alarm bells were ringing in the rational part of her brain – she was supposed to be angry with him – and she briefly broke the kiss, “What’re we...?”

But he cut her off, seeking out her mouth again and muffling her half-hearted objections. She’d already forgotten what they were, anyways. By the time he’d nibbled her lower lip and breached her lips with his tongue, she was pretty sure she’d forgotten where they were. 

His fingers tickled down her sides, caressing the skin above her trousers before he gripped her hips. He drew away from her momentarily, allowing her the air she needed – harsh gasps as her heart danced pleasantly in her chest. Instead, he moved to the sensitive skin below her ear, sketching promises with his tongue that left her breathless. 

When he pressed feather-light kisses down to the neck of her shirt, stubble on his jawline scratching pleasurably against her skin, her brain shouted out its final disapproval, breaking the surface of her heady thoughts. “We can’t do this, Poe.” Her traitor hands kept gripping at his curls despite her verbal disagreement, guiding his mouth against her. She was shivering.

“This is…a bad idea…”

He moved his hands to her thighs, grasping them tightly and hauling her up around his waist. Her center pressed down on the front of his flight pants, and with a loud moan, she realized just how excited he was. Her heart jumped in her chest.

“You were saying?” He asked, smirk in place.

She pulled him back against her and mumbled against his lips, “Nothing.”

He hummed into the kiss for a time and then returned to her neck, nibbling and sucking a path of fire across her skin. She knew it would be visible tomorrow, scruff-burn included, but she couldn’t really muster enough distress to care. Gravity was pressing her progressively harder against his length, so she tightened her legs, increasing the friction. He groaned again, huffing out a breath against her neck.

“Ground,” she pleaded. “Now.”

She’d expected him to drop her and let her get there herself; instead, he lowered to his knees, barely breaking contact with her skin. He gently pushed her back into the grass with his weight, but stopped just short of kissing her – looking her in the eyes, his own dark ones searching for an answer to his silent question. Stop?

She shook her head, shoving thoughts of consequences to the back of her mind, and craned her neck up to steal another kiss. He responded by pressing down with his hips, grinding into her and making her fingers curl against his scalp. The heat in the pit of her stomach slowly built in strength until she was rhythmically rubbing against him, seeking out the release that she hoped he would give. 

They were so enthralled with one another that they didn’t hear the crazed mechanic cheeping until it nearly rolled into them. 

Anya pulled away in surprise with an undignified squeak, pushing Poe back with a stiff hand on his chest. His head slumped between his shoulders, forehead resting on her collarbone and eyes screwed shut. 

“BB-8…I’m fine. Why’re you…?” He panted. 

The droid raced around them, bumping against Poe’s feet and legs and squealing at him in droid speak, which meant she had no idea what was going on.

“There’s nothing wrong. I know I’ve been gone most of the day, but I’m okay…I promise. Do I look injured?”

He rolled off of Anya with an apologetic glance. “He’s – he worries about me a lot more since…” 

She nodded. 

He stood up, doing an exaggerated twirl, and BB-8 beeped at him, shaking its head disapprovingly – if that was possible, which it appeared to be. 

“Look, I’m okay. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me…”

Oppositional chirping from BB-8.

“…but there’s going to be something wrong with you if you don’t roll back to base. Immediately.” Even in the starlight, Anya could see the blooming redness on Poe’s skin.

The droid rolled forward miserably, and it let out a low drone. Slowly, very slowly, it moved away toward the path, head down the whole way. 

Anya watched as it disappeared into the forest, heart pounding in her chest. Poe’s face had disappeared behind his hands, and Anya stood next to him.

“No, don’t…” he reached out, signaling for her to stay put, but she was already on her feet. “I’m sorry. I can’t even believe…”

Reality settled in her stomach, a heavy boulder crushing the delight of the last few minutes. “Poe, don’t worry about it. It’s probably for the best, anyway, right? A sign.”

If he’d looked disappointed before, he was desolate now. 

“Anya,” he whispered, voice hopeful, as though he might plead. When she didn’t respond, his shoulders fell. “We’re back here again, huh?” 

After a moment faced with her determined stare, he gave a chuckle, head shaking. “You really are stubborn.”

She crossed her arms, defensive. “Yeah, what of –“

“I’m pretty stubborn, too.” He mirrored her, crossing his arms. “And I’m not going to give up that easily. I’m used to winning.”

She couldn’t believe him. As much as she wanted to be angry, she couldn’t. She laughed instead. “I think cocky and infuriating are the words you’re looking for.”

He grinned. “Those, too. But the stubbornness is vital right now. I’m going to break you eventually, Anya. You’ll come around.”

He took a few steps closer to her, moving right into her space. If she drew in a breath, she’d be able to smell him again. She tried not to, and she held her ground. 

He leaned in, palm to her cheek, lips a hair’s breadth from hers. She closed her eyes. 

Time passed before she noticed the absence of his body heat and realized he’d pulled away. When she opened her eyes, it was to his smug grin. “I think I’ll wait until you ask, though.”

His smile disappeared, and the rigid set to his features displayed a seriousness he hadn’t possessed before. “I want to make sure it’s what you want – that you’re ready. It’s important to me, even if I don’t want to wait that long.”

His gaze returned to her lips, and the ticklish pleasure returned to her stomach. Oh, how she wished she could follow through with her desires. But it was probably a blessing that BB-8 had stopped them. She’d been right before: becoming attached to Poe was a dangerous risk – one that she wasn’t sure she could handle. Now or ever.

She swallowed, clearing her throat, and backed away so that his hand fell from her face. “It’s late. I think we should head back.”

He nodded, eyes finally dragging from her lips to her eyes. 

The walk back to base was painfully silent. Anya fought to ignore the tension between them – the need to touch him – the entire time.


	5. During the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem. 
> 
> Well, I'm just going to say beforehand that there's a reason this has a Mature rating. 
> 
> Also, don't get too spoiled. I know I'm posting two chapters close together here. I had no self-restraint today and wrote instead of completing the piles of work that I should have been doing. I'm going to hate myself for the rest of the week, but I certainly enjoyed writing this. 
> 
> Enjoy.

The wind had picked up by the time they reached the edge of the forest, and Anya could smell the rain coming. The sharp warning rose up from the soil and pervaded the air around them, a humidity kissing the skin that had not been there minutes before. Although it was difficult to see them in the darkness, Anya could imagine the gloomy clouds above, threatening a thorough dousing if they didn’t pick up speed. It hadn’t often rained on Hosnian Prime, but she’d encountered her fair share of formidable storms since her arrival on D’Qar. 

“We’d better hurry,” she said, looking up to the sky. It was the first words either of them had spoken since they left the hollow. 

Poe shook his head, maintaining his slow gait, hands shoved into the pockets of his flight suit. “We’ll be fine. I’ve seen clouds like these from the sky. Nothing’s going to happen before we make it to—“

Lightning lit up the horizon beyond the hangar, followed quickly by rumbling of distant thunder.

“Uh huh,” Anya smiled, increasing to a speed just below a jog. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

Poe was still strolling along behind her, and the space between them grew. 

“I’m telling you. There’s no need to rush.”

Anya was shaking her head. They were still about fifty meters from the airfield and another fifty from the hangar. If they didn’t hurry…

The wind whipped her dark hair around her face, the strands tickling her cheeks. The grasses around them were dancing in the steady gusts. It was then that she felt the first droplets of moisture on her skin. 

“It’s coming,” she started jogging. She spared a glance behind her and saw Poe still walking along as though nothing was happening. Completely unbothered by the fact that it was about to storm.

“You’re going to get soaked,” she shouted. 

“It’s not going to rain!”

Lightning snaked across the sky and thunder growled close enough that it shook the ground beneath their feet. The rain increased to a steady drizzle. 

She turned, jogging backwards. “Are you really so stubborn that you won’t admit you were wrong? You’d rather be wet?”

Poe was smirking, and she could just catch the white of his teeth in the blackness. “It’s not raining!”

Anya laughed, spinning back around to focus on her progress forward. She’d rather not trip in front of him.

Twenty meters from the airfield, and the sky opened up, heavy droplets striking everywhere, saturating her hair so that strands were plastered to her face. Anya squealed, speeding to a sprint. 

She didn’t hear him coming until he was racing by her, giddy smile on his face.

“I told you it wasn’t going to rain!” He yelled over a particularly loud bout of thunder. 

“Oh!” She pressed harder, trying to keep him from passing her. 

Poe was laughing. She could hear it over the rain and the wind, unfazed by the storm – reveling in their predicament. “Beautiful weather, isn’t it?”

His curls were sopping wet, falling down into his eyes, and he wiped them away so he could grin over at her. 

“You’re such an ass!” She laughed back, aching in her chest at the sight of him.

“Thank you!” Came his reply. 

She jumped around the wheels of a parked X-Wing before pushing further ahead and blinking the water out of her eyes. She crashed through puddles, saturating her shoes and socks.

They made it to a side door on the hangar; the main entrance had likely been closed and sealed off in anticipation of the heavy rainfall. The mechanics and technicians wouldn’t have wanted their unfinished handiwork to be ruined by the ill-timed storm that she and Poe hadn’t seen coming during their walk out of the forest.

Anya beat Poe to the door, pulling open the side panel and entering the unlock code in a flourish. She could feel him hovering just to her back when it opened and she slipped inside. More lightning flashed just as the door closed, muffling the roar of the gale outside.

Most of the light in the hangar had been turned off, and the half-constructed X-Wings rested in the darkness like massive beasts in slumber. Anya had never been in the hangar this late—long after the final shift had wandered away to their sleeping quarters for the night. The air was undisturbed and thick with the aromas of metal and oil and fuel. She tried to hush her harsh breathing, feeling as though she was intruding on a holy shrine. A place where workers had devoted their blood and sweat in the pursuit of a beloved cause. 

Poe had no such compunctions. His hands were on his knees, and he coughed a few times before straightening again, shaking the water out of his hair. “See,” he was smiling around his gasps. “No rain.”

She wanted to slap him, to shush him, to laugh, to kiss the grin from his lips all at once. His undershirt was drenched through, clinging to his frame and showing off the shape of his body beneath. His eyes were alight with amusement at the whole situation, his hair a mess of heavy tangles sticking up at odd angles.

Alive. No one had ever been more alive than he was – than he made her feel right then. And no matter how far she ran away from him or hid from this feeling, she knew now that there was no denying it. If something happened to Poe, gods forbid it, she would be just as shattered if she were on another planet and never spoke another word to him. He’d left his mark on her. And if she was going down – if he had to inevitably leave this universe of his own volition or not – she would much rather go down knowing what a dizzying, blissful adventure it was to be a part of the life that he’d had. 

She wasn’t sure of the expression on her face, but Poe could obviously see it in the dim light. His smile faded, and his breathing quieted. 

“Anya?”

“You win,” she whispered. “I…I’m ready.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion just before she closed the gap between them, pulling him forward by his undershirt. 

“I’m choosing this.”

Poe paused for a second before smiling. “Took you—“

She was the one to cut him off this time, pressing her lips to his. His fingers found her hair, sliding through the wet strands and gripping, drawing her even closer. 

Poe was backing up, using his hold on her to lead her – she wasn’t sure where. Her eyes were screwed shut as she focused on her other senses. The roiling heat and excitement in her gut, the tingling of adrenaline in her arms and legs, their combined musty smell from spending the day outdoors and running in the rain, the warm line of his body pressed against her. 

He bumped into one of the metal workbenches, knocking tools and small parts to the ground in a harsh crescendo of crashes and bangs. They broke apart for a moment, as he attempted to catch the bench with a hand before it completely toppled over, but it slipped from his wet grip, causing even more of the parts to scatter across the workroom floor. She was covering her mouth, trying to hold in the giggles as she watched. There was a long moment of silent suspension where they both waited, eyes wide, for someone to come barreling through one of the doors to check on the noise. But no one appeared. 

Anya giggled again.

“That’s not funny,” he smiled, righting the bench and picking up some of the parts nearest to him. “I’ll have to clean that up tomorrow. That was my station.”

She openly laughed now, trying to stifle it with her hands. 

“Well, I can head to bed then, if you need to tidy up. I’ll see you some other time?” She joked, walking in the direction of the exit and tiptoeing around the mess. 

He caught her around the waist, hauling her back against him: “Oh, no you don’t. You don’t get off that easily.”

He spun her around and smoothed some of the hair back from her face. 

“But I can let you go if you really want to,” he murmured.

She looked up into his eyes and could see the doubt. A rare glimpse of the man behind the confident exterior. Did she actually want to be there with him?

She shook her head, taking a breath. “No. Of course I don’t want to leave, Poe.”

The corners of his lips quirked up into a small, genuine smile. He leaned forward, dropping kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, her jawline. The anticipation caused her to shiver. Before he finally stopped at her lips, he breathed against them: “Anya.”

His kiss was urgent and unrestrained, and she crumbled beneath him, letting him take the lead he so clearly wanted. His hands skated over her back, her hips, landing on her backside. He squeezed, pulling her closer and dragging a moan from her throat. She drew away again, smiling as he chased after her. She had to put a hand between them, holding him off momentarily. “We can’t do this here – out in the open. Anyone could walk in right now.”

His eyes darted around, trying to find a space. “Your quarters?” He asked.

“I share a room,” she frowned. “You?”

He shook his head. “Finn. I could kick him out, but he’d pitch a fit and wake up the whole wing.”

She could see the epiphany flit across his face. He grabbed her hand, moving her back to his X-Wing. He stepped up the first few rungs of the ladder to the cockpit, turning around the raise a brow in question.

She could just imagine how many other female workers on the base had dreamed about this very scenario. A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that they might have actually experienced it themselves. She shoved it away and followed behind him. 

She watched as he hopped into the pilot’s seat, adjusting the chair so that it was further back from the controls. Even still, it was going to be a tight fit. From her position at the top of the ladder, she scrunched up her nose, looking down at him with his arms outstretched, waiting. “Are you sure about this?”

He laughed, waving her forward with his hands. “I’m sure. I spend more time in here than anywhere else. It’ll work.”

She lifted a leg over the side of the ship, trying to gracefully maneuver over his lap and kicking only a few buttons and control sticks. His hands on her hips helped to guide her before she broke anything too important. 

Once she was in place, her legs were effectively trapped between his body and the side control panels. She couldn’t get out of here even if she wanted to. Poe reached up behind his head, standing up slightly out of his seat to pull the door to the cockpit down over them. Anya had about a forearm’s length from the top of her head to the glass of the cover. It was certainly going to be interesting. 

Inside the closed cockpit, every breath echoed. Anya could hear her own nervous panting. This was it – there was no turning back now. Poe rubbed soothing circles into the skin at her waist. 

“You okay?” He whispered, ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m just,” she laughed at herself. “This is actually happening.”

He nodded, for once lacking words. Instead, he skimmed his hand around to her lower back, making her shiver. “Help me get this off,” he asked, tugging slightly upwards on her wet uniform top. 

She reached down and pulled up from the front. When it got stuck, wet and twisted around her arms in the small space, they both laughed. Poe was able to untangle it and pluck it from her arms, dropping it behind her. She was bare in front of him for the first time, and she was trembling in expectation. 

He sighed, briefly shutting his eyes before meeting hers. “Beautiful.”

She hummed, resisting the temptation to cross her arms in front of herself. “Your turn, then.”

He laughed, “Alright.”

He reached down under the tie of his flight suit and gripped the bottom of his undershirt, quickly yanking it over the top of his head and throwing it away with hers. Anya could hardly breathe anymore – so much warm, tanned skin. 

He gingerly reached up with one calloused hand, dragging it up her stomach – tickling – before reaching her breast. She let out a breath between clenched teeth. “Oh –“

He leaned forward, taking the other between his lips, and suddenly she no longer felt self-conscious in front of him. She could hardly think past the sensations. His scorching tongue on her rain-chilled skin, his teeth –

“Poe,” she moaned, trying to stay quiet in case anyone had decided to sneak into the hangar before the start of the morning shift. 

He groaned against her, and she pressed down on his lap, rubbing into the hardness she could feel there. She gripped his wet hair in one hand, the other above her on the glass to hold steady while he continued to assault her with hands and mouth. His lips left her breast – trailing upward with the scratch of his stubble to her collarbone, her neck, finally reaching her mouth. She was having a hard time controlling the sounds escaping her lips, so he swallowed them for her. 

He fumbled at the front of her pants, trying to unbutton them – succeeding. She was already aching in anticipation of his touch when he reached below her underclothes, thumb running along the slickness there, finding the spot that made her moan. He circled it, rubbing just enough to tease. She broke the kiss, mouth buried against his neck. He stroked harder, and her breath caught. 

“Oh, gods. Poe.” 

He slipped his other hand under the back of her pants, gripping her and kneading. He softly nudged her away and returned to her breast with his lips and tongue, drawing her wetly back into his mouth. It was too much and not enough all at once. It had been so long since she’d done this with someone else; it was like he’d lit fire to a fuse that was quickly burning away. She was almost afraid what would happen once it was gone. 

The knot in her lower stomach was drawing tighter and tighter, her legs shaking against him, toes curling in her shoes, breaths harsh. Moaning. 

“Poe, I’m…”

He pulled away from her breast, watching in awe as she fell apart above him. She spotted him just before her eyes slammed closed, and she held on to his shoulder and the cockpit door, riding out her orgasm. She wasn’t sure how long it took or how loud she’d been. 

When it ended, she was leaning forward over Poe. Her ears were ringing, and he was kissing the side of her face. 

“That was…” she started, trying to find words and giving up when they didn’t come to her immediately.

“Yeah,” he laughed, caressing her back with his fingertips. 

She was sweaty, and she could feel that he was, too. The tiny cockpit was overly warm with their bodies and hot breath, and the glass had started fogging. 

Anya could still sense his hardness beneath her, and she ground down, applying pressure where she could feel the end of his length. He groaned against her neck. 

“We have to somehow get our pants off in here,” she grinned lazily, pushing away from Poe to see if he had any helpful tips. 

Without hesitation, he reached up and unclasped the door, opening them up to all of the cool air in the hangar. Anya was shivering. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Stand up.”

She wanted to laugh at how quickly he’d decided to take charge. 

“Turn around,” he said, twirling a finger in a circular motion. Anya was curious enough to find out where this was going that she was happy to oblige. It was more difficult to un-lodge her legs from between Poe and the controls than she was expecting, but once she had, she turned to face the front of the ship. Poe gripped her pants and underclothes and quickly pulled them down over her hips, her thighs. She could only imagine the view he had. 

She didn’t have to for long. He leaned forward and nipped one of her cheeks. 

She jerked forward, “Poe!”

He was laughing openly behind her, shaking the ship. “Sit down,” he was able to breathe out between chuckles. 

“You jerk. I almost launched myself from the cockpit.” She sat down, and he kissed her neck.

“Hush. I would’ve caught you,” he kissed her again, but he was still trembling with laughter. “Put your legs out so we can get them off of you.”

She wanted to tell him off for biting her, but she did what he said, kicking off her shoes and using her feet to slide her pants completely off. And she was naked on his lap in the middle of the hangar. How bizarre this night had become. 

“You have to stand up again so I can get my suit off.”

Anya turned and narrowed her eyes at him. He laughed, leaning forward and giving her a peck on the lips. “I won’t bite you this time.”

“If you value your life, you won’t.”

He smiled back at her, lifting his hands to show her that he wasn’t going to do anything. She stood up again, turning around and backing up to give him some room. He had to do some extensive shimmying to get the suit and underclothes down his legs. She tried not to stare when he was free from his pants, but she was having a difficult time of it.

The air between them shifted. The playfulness was gone now that they were staring at one another completely unclothed. 

Poe gestured for her to sit down again, and she did, resting on his thighs. His length was laying heavily against her leg. Poe reached up again, pulling the cockpit closed, locking them in the space together. 

Anya could feel the heat on her cheeks, annoyed with her own shyness. She’d already let him bring her to completion – how was this much different?

But it was.

Poe must have sensed her discomfort. He didn’t rush things, instead moving forward to capture her lips once more in a languid kiss. Tentatively, Anya reached between them, stroking him slowly, testing out the size and shape of him. He was the one who pulled away this time, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“Anya,” he breathed, eyes closed. 

She increased speed and pressure, focusing on the tip. His head fell back against the seat and he gripped her thighs, pushing up into her fist with every stroke. She was enjoying watching him dissolve underneath her – watching his bold exterior melt away in the face of the pleasure she was giving him. 

After a few moments, he moaned. “Anya, you’ve got to stop or this is going to be over embarrassingly quickly.”

She nodded, craning her neck forward and pulling him in for another kiss. “Okay.”

“Ready?” She asked, pushing up off of his lap and positioning him at her entrance. 

“Gods yes,” he laughed. It died as soon as she slowly sat down, drawing him in to the hilt. 

It was undeniably painful at first, just beyond tight and verging on full. She paused once she’d taken him in completely. Poe’s eyes had closed, so she was assuming he also needed a moment to gather himself. Once the pain lessened, she lifted up again before dropping back to his lap. He let out a breath she hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“Yeah,” he was nodding. 

She enjoyed taking control – being the one on top. She could choose the speed, the angle. She started slow, letting every stroke drag against her, feeling every inch of him inside of her, the way he twitched once she was completely seated. The way his breath stuttered when she tightened around him. 

Soon, she was panting, and her body was begging her for more – faster, harder, deeper. She gave in, leaning back and resting her hands on the control panel so that she could feel him draw against the spot inside of her that made her eyes roll. It was straining her thighs, but she kept going, riding out the desire that was clouding her every thought. 

Poe ran his hands over her breasts, down her stomach, stopping at her center once more, thumb working in circles and doubling her pleasure.

Eventually, her legs couldn’t keep up her steady pace, and she pushed back up, resting her arms on the head of Poe’s seat. 

“Okay, my legs are giving out on me here,” she breathed, slowing her rhythm. 

Poe nodded, kissing her slowly before reaching around and resting his hands on her backside. He lifted her and slid down in his seat just enough that he could drive up into her. Anya hadn’t been expecting it, or the wave of surprised pleasure that coursed through her. 

Her heart was pounding, unable to keep up with his pace – simply letting him take over completely, set the speed that he needed. She was racing to her second orgasm, moaning, chanting his name in a prayer. Her already tired legs were shaking, her center tightening around him.

The second orgasm was just as strong as the first, and she gripped the seat of the chair, pressing her face into his neck to stifle her cries. She could distantly hear him groaning with her, speeding his strokes, chasing her pleasure in search of his own completion. 

He called her name one final time, pressing up into her – body straining to his own end. She could feel the warmth of it inside of her as she dropped tired kisses on his temple. 

Poe finally set her back down; he was still seated inside of her. She could hear his labored breathing from where she relaxed, suddenly exhausted, with her head on his shoulder. 

He wrapped his arms around her back, holding her close even though they were both covered in sweat and gods knew what else. 

Anya closed her eyes and pulled her arms in tight against them – just resting for a moment. “We need to head back to the sleeping quarters,” she mumbled against his heated skin. 

“Yeah, we do,” he breathed, supporting his cheek on her forehead. “Just give me a minute here. I don’t want my heart to give out.”

Anya shook silently with laughter, too tired to make any sound. 

“Mmmmm. Makes two of us,” she slurred.

She knew she was drifting into a doze, but she couldn’t fight against it. It quietly blanketed her, her thoughts slipping into the subconscious, away from the warm cocoon of Poe’s arms. 

She could feel him pull away, knew distantly that he was looking down at her. “Anya?”

There was sunlight, and grass, and trees all around. She was laughing and smiling. Poe was tickling her sides in their clearing, and she couldn’t get away. 

She hummed, wondering if she had finally entered her dreams. 

“I promise I won’t leave you.”

His voice floated around her, an invisible presence. She thought she might touch it. 

I know, she wanted to say. I know. 

*****

She jerked awake to a pounding under her feet. Poe was naked beneath her, head drooping forward uncomfortably in his sleep. He’d have a stiff neck once he finally moved. 

The worry lines that usually sat just between his brows had smoothed out, and his mouth hung open in a quiet snore. She’d have to remember that when he finally awoke. 

Tease HER for snoring? Hm.

The pounding continued a few more times, and she realized that someone was striking the bottom of the X-Wing. 

“Poe!” She hissed, shaking his shoulder. “Poe, wake up! There’s someone outside!”

He hummed, nodding his head. 

“No, you idiot,” she laughed, amused with him even though they were about to be caught naked in the middle of the hangar. “Wake up!”

She lightly slapped his cheek, and he jolted awake, eyes wide and arms raised as if for a fight. 

“Wha—Ow!” He rubbed at his neck. “What’s going on? Why’re you hitting me?”

The pounding returned, this time more persistent. 

“There’s someone out there, and we’re still naked inside of your ship.”

He gestured behind her, gathering his wits. “Grab a shirt. Quickly.”

Anya reached behind her, feeling around until she found something – Poe’s undershirt. It would have to do. She pulled it over her head, narrowly avoiding knocking Poe in the face with her elbows. 

Poe pulled open the roof of the cockpit just enough that he could see and speak out of the gap. Anya noticed that about half of the hangar lights had been turned on. 

“Who’s out there?”

Finn’s head popped out from under the bottom of the ship.

“It’s me, stupid! What’re you doing? You’re lucky I decided to come to shift early, otherwise the whole fleet was going to catch you two out here naked as they day you were born.”

His tone was scolding, but his eyes were wide and amused. Anya knew that as soon as she left, Finn was going to tease the hell out of Poe. 

“C’mon, Commander. I don’t think General Organa is going to be very happy with you if she finds out you’ve been getting her ships dirty.”

Speaking of dirty – Anya could feel the stickiness between her legs, how it pulled when Poe moved. She’d have to hurry and clean before she was expected at Command.

“Finn, you’d better turn around right now!” Poe’s neck and chest were red with embarrassment. 

Although she was also embarrassed, she couldn’t deny the hilarity of the situation. She might also be slightly giddy from the emotional high and the great sex, but she couldn’t be sure. 

Finn didn’t turn around. Instead he opened his mouth to continue with his ribbing. “Well, I don’t think –“

“Pilot! Around – right now – or you’ll be on cleaning duty until I decide exactly how I’m going to kill you.”

Finn looked hurt, shoulders falling, but he turned quickly on his heel. Poe was shaking – past embarrassment to anger, and Anya was shocked at his strong reaction. 

“Poe, you didn’t have to –“ she whispered, but Poe shut the cockpit, giving her a hard stare. 

“Anya, you’re naked. I didn’t want him to….Just grab some pants, please.”

He hadn’t been embarrassed for himself. He simply didn’t want Finn to see her exposed. He was worried about her. 

She shook her head at him, leaning forward and kissing him one last time. He hummed into it, “Pants, Anya.”

She laughed. “Okay. Open the cockpit.”

He pushed it up all of the way, and she stooped up, picking up her black pants from their pile of clothing. After she’d pulled them on and slipped her feet into her shoes – sans-socks – she handed Poe his wrinkled flight suit. She gestured to the long-sleeved undershirt that she still wore. “Do you want this back?”

“No,” he smiled, pushing up, too. He was up against her, still without a stitch of clothing. “Keep it for now. You look good in my shirt.”

She shoved him playfully, stepping over the side of the ship and back onto the ladder. “Well, I’d say I’d see you around…but. I think that’s probably assumed at this point.”

Finn had started to turn around again, taking her words as a signal that they had dressed and were parting.

“Around, pilot! Did I say you could look?” Poe said, voice stern.

Anya could hear Finn grumbling as he spun back in the other direction. Although Poe was being hard on him, there was a grin stretching his face, so she knew it wasn’t too serious. 

Poe stepped into his flight suit and zipped it up to the throat. He leaned over, tugging her forward by the collar of his shirt, and kissed her roughly – a promise. Whatever this was, it wasn’t over. She ran her hands through his messy curls and across his stubble one last time before pulling away and stepping down the ladder. She spared him one final look – it was obvious what he’d been up to. She hoped he would at least change before his shift. 

As she passed Finn, she patted him on the shoulder and quickly pecked him on the cheek. “Thanks, Finn.”

She moved in close enough that only he could hear, whispering, “He’s not actually mad. Don’t feel so bad.”

Finn grinned at her, and she took off at a jog to the exit.

As she was walking through the door, she heard Finn across the hangar: “I like her.”

…followed by: “Me too. Don’t get any ideas.”


	6. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. First off, again, apologies for the huge delay. I'm very appreciative for all of the kudos and comments, guys! They help me get through the daily slog of work. I'm coming up here on a two month break (two guesses as to my job now), and I'll be able to start posting much more frequently.
> 
> Admittedly, this is a bit of a filler chapter. We're still riding up the rising action of this story. However, I got to introduce some new characters this time (definitely not new to the universe, but new to this story), and that was kind of exciting. 
> 
> Not much Poe in this one, but he's making a roaring comeback next chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy!

She stood outside of her shared room trying to figure out how to sneak inside without alerting Lerona to her presence. Up to this point, she’d made it back to the sleeping quarters having only run into one other person: an older woman in the cleaning crew who’d stopped mopping the hall, raised a knowing brow, and gave her a small smile. But she’d tried to avoid all of the major walkways on her way here because she knew how completely sexed-out she looked.

If the woman in the cleaning crew she’d never met before could tell what she’d been up to, then Lerona would be able to read her like an open book.

Anya wasn’t sure of the time, but the lack of people filtering out of the sleeping quarters to head to workstations in the base let her know that it was at least slightly before first shift. Lerona wasn’t one to dally in bed in the morning, and depending on whether she was signed up for first shift (which she normally was), she would already be awake dressing and cycling through her mundane morning routine.

Anya took a deep breath, straightened her hair and Poe’s shirt one last time, and dialed on the panel next to the door. It slid open with a quiet burst of compressed air, and Anya was met with Lerona’s back. She stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom doing her hair. But at the sound of the opening door, she whipped around to eye Anya as she shrunk back from the doorway.

“ _You_ …” she started, eyes widening and lips curling into a surprised smirk. “That’s not your shirt, and those are yesterday’s pants.” Her hands dropped from the braid at the side of her head.

Anya stepped inside of the door and let it brush closed behind her. She’d spectacularly failed at this secret entrance.

“Mmmm. You’re very observant.”

Anya could feel her face heating, and she was trying not to meet Lerona’s gaze.

“Am I _allowed_ to ask?”

Anya gave a nervous laugh, moving over to her bunk and trying to find a bathroom towel so that she didn’t smell like Poe as quickly as possible. It was making her soft in a way that she couldn’t be right now. “Um. I mean, I can’t stop you from asking, but I might not answer.”

Lerona chuckled, moving back to the mirror and her hair, tightly threading it through her fingers.

“Then will you tell me who? Or why I’m just now finding out about it?” She stopped, memory flickering at the corners of her eyes, and turned to Anya again. “Is this why you were gone the other night? The whole sleeping in the woods thing was a cover, wasn’t it?”

Anya pulled Poe’s shirt over her head, quietly lamenting its loss, before grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her top. The dirty uniform pants from yesterday stuck to her skin uncomfortably as she slid them down her legs.

 She needed to wash. Now.

“Well, it wasn’t a lie. It was a half-truth.”

Lerona didn’t balk at her, but finished up her hair, tight braid running from her temple to the back of her head, the rest standing up in its natural state. Anya had always loved Lerona’s hair – the same texture as Finn’s but longer – black like the sky on a cloudy night.

She stepped in front of Anya on her way to the washroom, hands raised. “Okay. Just tell me this. Is it serious?”

Anya didn’t know the answer to that specific question, and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to figure it out.

“I…” She pulled the towel tighter around her. “Lerona, I don’t know.” Her stomach swooped anxiously. “He’s. I don’t know if he’s mine, and I don’t know how long he’ll be mine if he is, or even _how_ _long_ he’ll be…alive or –“

She stopped, rubbing her forehead. “But he…” she held in the unexpected giggle that threatened to spill from her throat, one that made her feel like a little girl again. “I can’t even tell you how much he’s helped me feel more like myself the last couple of weeks. He’s revived me, and he’s infuriating…” she huffed a laugh before falling stone silent. “…And this feels a lot like an emotion I don’t want to acknowledge right now.”

Lerona’s eyes grew soft around the edges and she lowered her hands. “He’s a pilot, isn’t he?”

“How could you possibly have figured that out?”

Lerona smiled. “That’s a standard issue shirt that all of the pilots wear under their flightsuits. Also, you were headed in the direction of the hangar when you left mess yesterday. And you said you didn’t know how long he’d be…”

She trailed off, waving her hand dismissively and frown pulling at the corner of her mouth. Anya was thankful she didn’t finish her thought. 

“You’re smarter than you have any right to be,” Anya sighed, walking around her into the washroom. Lerona trailed behind.

“So are you.” She leaned against the doorframe. “Which is why I’m going to let you keep doing what you’re doing without asking too many questions.”

Anya stepped into the ‘fresher, turning back to her.

“But please remember that—“

She was picking at the wall, not meeting Anya’s eyes. “You’re still not quite back to where you were – or where you should be. And if I find out that he’s hurt you and set you back—“

She finally looked up.

“I think you already know how that’ll end.”

Anya shook her head. How she’d managed to snag a friend as loyal or as loving as Lerona was beyond her. And even though she was fairly sure that it wouldn’t come to it – that Lerona wouldn’t have to rain fire down on Poe’s head – she was glad to know that someone was looking  out for her.

“Thanks.”

Lerona smiled. “It’s nothing. Really.”

She stepped into the washroom. “Whoever he is,  he’s obviously AHmazing in the sack, though. I mean, you looked more fucked out than I’ve seen you in –“

Anya picked up a bottle of soap and chucked it across the room at Lerona’s head, narrowly missing when she ducked.

“—well, in ever, really.”

“Okay, Lerona. _Out!_ ”

She popped through the door, but not before she shouted back: “Does he have any girl friends he might direct my way?”

“ _Shut the door!_ ”

“Got it,” Lerona laughed, twisting back around the corner to grin at Anya one last time.

*****

Her shift passed uneventfully. Over the last several days, she’d been investigating a high volume of First Order transport in the Unknown Regions, but she had yet to pinpoint their place of origin or their destination. She could easily write it off as an anomaly – the travelers were sporadic with no set pattern and only small ships – but she had a nagging fear that it was more than it appeared to be.

However, there were no significant advances in her knowledge, so she informed the night shift worker who was taking her position, T’Chula, that he should keep an eye out as he carried about his other tasks and research. His solemn nod was the last thing she saw before she headed out of Command and toward the mess hall to grab something to eat for an early supper.

Poe had been on her mind all day. After Lerona had left their room that morning, she’d attempted to cover up the small bruises and beard burn on her neck with the collar of her uniform, but instead had to employ her meager supplies of makeup that she only used for official meetings and medal ceremonies. Any time someone passed her station at Command, she’d shifted in her seat, curling her collar closer to her jaw and avoiding eye contact. It was silly – she knew there was no way they could actually see it – but she felt like she had a flashing sign above her head that read: “I had mind-blowing sex with Poe Dameron in his X-Wing last night.”

The soreness was another reminder, not only of what she had done, but of exactly how long it had been since the last time she’d been with someone else before that. The significance of that fact was not lost on her.

At random times – while she was tracking solitary TIEs as they jumped into lightspeed or searching for remote uninhabited planets at the far reaches of the galaxy – the memory of his hands on her skin would flit through her mind. The feeling of his curly hair tickling her neck, the scrape of his teeth on her bottom lip, the growl of his groans of pleasure, the sound of her name as he’d pulled her against him. As she looked at the crisscrossed flightpaths of First Order fighters, she saw the sopping black curls on his forehead – heard his giddy laughter. Even though she’d washed his smell from her skin that morning, she felt like it was still all around her: the dirt, the engine grease, the muskiness that was unique to Poe in her mind.

It was the sweet drone of his snore this morning that was running through her thoughts when she almost collided into the back of Finn in the food lines.

“Oh, Finn!” She put her hands on the back of his shoulders, straightening herself. “I’m sorry. I was…lost in my own thoughts there for a bit.”

Finn turned to look at her, putting his hand on her own against his arm. “It’s alright, Anya. No worries.”

She noticed that he was still wearing the leather jacket over his flightsuit. “You’re not the only person I’ve seen today whose mind is still back in one of the cockpits.”

He winked at her, and she wasn’t completely sure if her face was as bright as the sky at sundown, but she was pretty sure.

“Uhm. That’s…I don’t know…”

He laughed, squeezing her hand. “Chill. I’m just joking with you. I’m not lying, though.” He raised his eyebrows. “He’s been distracted all day. But I just said it right now to get a reaction from you.”

Anya wasn’t sure how to respond, so she let loose with the only solid thought rattling in her brain. “He’s been distracted all day?”

Finn smiled, full lips cracking wide enough to flash his white teeth. He continued filling up his tray with a giant scoop of some beige sludge she wasn’t sure had a name.

“Mmmm. He has. He dropped a wrench on BB-8 earlier today because he wasn’t paying enough attention, and I don’t speak droid or anything, but I can tell when someone’s being dressed down in just about any language.”

“Well, he’s been worried about something with his X-Wing – a steering issue. It’s probably bothering him.”

Finn looked at her, nose scrunching as he chuckled. “You and I both know that’s not why he’s dropping wrenches.”

Anya grabbed a purple fruit and shoved it on her plate.

“But I’m glad to know he’s not alone,” Finn smiled. “I haven’t known him very long, but I haven’t seen him caught up like this before.”

“Caught up?” She asked, clearing her throat.

“Yeah. You know. Distracted. Randomly smiling. Bubbly.”

“Caught up,” she repeated.

“Exactly,” he grinned. “Like running into people standing only a foot from you in the food line.”

“Finn, I really didn’t mean to –“

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed, coming to the end of the food line, picking up his tray, and turning to her. “I know you didn’t, Anya. You’re just caught up, too. And I’m happy you are. I just –“

The smile faded a bit.

“Make sure he’s not caught up for nothing, alright?”

She was getting the “don’t hurt my brother,” speech. The ache in her chest and the fluttering in her stomach increased to an uncomfortable intensity.

She walked up to him, as close as their trays would allow.

“I promise I’ll do my best, Finn.”

His smile dialed back up to near blinding. “I know you will. I _like_ you, Anya. You’re…”

He glanced around for a word. “Fire. You’re like fire. You’re warm and you’re strong and you make the room a little bit brighter. I don’t know you very well, but I think I can trust you. I know Poe does.”

Her voice was thick and scratchy. “Thanks. I like you, too.”

“Alright,” he tapped her tray with his knuckle. “Success. You want to sit with me for dinner? I don’t think there’re many of the pilots here yet, and I usually sit with them. I’m still trying to get used to the fact that I’m kind of a pilot, too.”

Anya laughed. “You’re not ‘kind of’ a pilot, Finn. You are a pilot.”

Finn started heading to one of the open tables. She recognized the slight limp in his walk, less pronounced than it was shortly after he exited medical but still noticeable. “Well, you know. I’m not a very good one yet. They won’t let me fly any of the reconnaissance missions they’ve been sending out occasionally.”

Anya imagined Finn behind the wheel of one of the X-Wings: young, naïve, so damned alive he vibrated with it. She didn’t want to think about him flying into danger. “There’s no rush, Finn. You’ve got plenty of missions ahead of you.”

He grumbled at her, dropping his tray on the table and swinging his leg over the bench. “Yeah, that’s what Poe’s telling me, but he’s not the one sitting useless back on the ground while everyone else is earning their keep.”

She sat down next to him, setting her water next to her tray. “If you think even for a second that all that you’ve done already hasn’t earned you a spot here with the Resistance until you’re old and gray, then you’re absolutely wrong, Finn. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

He paused with a spoonful of the beige slop right in front of his lips, smiling sadly instead.

“She’s right, you know,” Poe’s voice rang out from right behind them, making Anya jump slightly in her seat. “Just like I keep telling you, buddy.”

Her heart was in her throat as he walked around the table and sat across from them. It was clear that he hadn’t changed or showered since this morning. His curly hair was still wild from their adventures outside last night, but it was softer after their encounter with the rain water. His wrinkled flightsuit was zipped up to the collar because she knew he was lacking the standard issue undershirt that was currently laying across her bunk. He smiled at her – wide and happy, eyes crinkling – and she felt herself doing the same, breath sucked straight out of her lungs at the sight of him.

“Hey, you,” he whispered, eyes only for her.

“Hey.”

They sat in elated silence for a few seconds while she rooted around in her brain for something to say.

“You snore,” she narrowed her eyes, remembering her promise to pay him back. “Did you know you _snore_ , Dameron?”

He laughed. “I might’ve known, yeah.”

Finn interjected around a mouthful of slop, “Oh, he knows. I only tell him just about every morning. It’s not as adorable as you’re making it out to be when it’s 0400 and it’s shaking your cot across the room.”

“Oh, shut it,” Poe laughed, cheeks pinking despite his wry smile. “It’s not so bad as all of that. Hell, you’re the one waking me up with your talking most mornings.”

“I _don’t_ talk in my sleep,” Finn waved him off.

“Really? I beg to differ. ‘Rey-this’ and ‘Rey-that’ and ‘Rey, let me hold your hand –‘”

“Hey!” Finn picked up one of his green vegetables and launched it across the table, but Poe knocked it out of the air with the end of his fork.

Anya tried to hold in her giggles as the two of them had a silent stare-off.

“Alright, boys. Let it go. I’ll pretend like I didn’t hear any of that, Finn.”

“He’s lying,” Finn turned to her. “I’ve never said any of that. I don’t even talk in my sleep.”

They were interrupted when three of the other pilots crowded in around them, two sitting on either side of Poe (she vaguely remembered that one was named Wexley and the other was L’ulo) and one plopped down next to her with a sigh (Pava).

“He talking in his sleep again last night?” Wexley turned to Poe. His dark hair and beard were unmistakable now that she really looked. He’d frequently been through Command to talk to the General.

“I was not!” Finn objected, dropping his fork. “He wouldn’t know, anyways. He didn’t even come back to the rooms last night.”

Wexley reached across the table when he noticed her sitting there, offering a hand. “Snap. And that’s L’ulo. And the one next to you is Jess Pava.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, hoping no one would comment on Finn’s assertion. “I’m Anya Sayul. Research and Intelligence.”

“Pleasure,” he smiled, and she noticed that Poe frowned into his mashed roots.

“So what’s this about our Commander not returning to the sleeping quarters last night?” Jess trilled, voice boisterous. “Getting up to some nighttime mischief again? Who was it this time? Someone in – “

“It wasn’t anything like that,” Poe cut her off.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s always something like that. What else could you possibly have been up to _all night long_? Spread the juicy gossip. Lord knows I haven’t been getting any. Unless…”

She turned to Anya, offering out her hand. “Hey, beautiful. I’m Jess. Nice to meet you. You busy later?”

Anya laughed, shaking her hand. “I’m already spoken for Jess, but I appreciate the offer.”

Jess turned her hand over, bearing her palm. “You sure I can’t entice you?” She kissed her wrist. “Might be better than whatever else is on the table and – _Ow!_ ”

Jess’s hand yanked out of hers so she could reach under the table and massage her leg. “Alright! Who was it? I’m gonna –“

Snap cleared his throat. “Jess, that’s Anya Sayul from Research and Intelligence.” He was staring at Jess, eyes hard in an attempt to communicate some unspoken truth that Jess had been too dense to already grasp.

“Anya Sayul from –?” Her eyes widened. “This is ‘the’ Anya?”

Anya was glancing around the table trying to figure out how this had already happened. “I’m ‘the’ Anya now? Why am I ‘the’ Anya?”

Jess straightened in her seat, dusting off the sleeve of her flightsuit. “Oh, _no reason_ , really. Finn might’ve mentioned something about you a while back, and the Commander might’ve gone all fluttery and clumsy like a teenage girl in heat, and we might’ve been teasing him about you ever since then – but it’s only a possibility.”

There was some shuffling under the table as Jess clearly dodged some more feet, landing a kick of her own with a thud. L’ulo jumped, “Hey!”

“Sorry, L’ulo,” she laughed. “That one wasn’t meant for you.” She glared across the table at Poe who was feigning innocence, suddenly very interested in his glass of juice.

“Interesting,” Anya muttered to herself.

“Yes, it is very interesting,” Snap grinned.

Jess looked between Anya and Poe, proverbial lightbulb flashing above her head. “Oh my _gods_. Last night?”

Poe met Anya’s gaze over his glass, small smile meant just for her. Anya could feel the adrenaline pumping lazily through her veins – could hear almost nothing but the steady wavering of her heartbeat in her ears.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Poe shook his head, eyes never leaving Anya’s.

“Oh, bantha shit, Poe.”

Finn was shifting uncomfortably next to Anya, face buried in a dry roll. Once Jess noticed, she was rocking back and forth, glancing at him around Anya.

“Finn, buddy! How you doing down there?”

“I’m good, Jess.”

“You look like you know something you’d like to share with the group.”

“Nope,” Finn smiled, lopsided and wobbly, shoving more roll in his mouth. “Nu’fin.”

“Mhm. I don’t know if I believe you.”

“I don’ know nu’fin.”

“Jess,” Poe’s voice was stern in a way that Anya hadn’t heard since this morning when he was scolding Finn. “Leave Finn alone.”

But it didn’t affect Jess in quite the way it had Finn. Instead of shrinking back, she simply huffed. “Yeah, yeah, _Commander_. It’s alright. I’ll get it out of someone eventually. How about you Anya?”

She could feel the ends of her ears heating, but she shook her head. “Poe and I just met about five minutes ago, actually. All I know is that according to Finn, he snores a lot.” She smiled across the table at him. “I might like to get to know him better, though.”

Poe’s eyes were crinkling at the corners again, and he grinned into his bite of food. He looked up and met her gaze. “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Oh, ew,” Jess gagged. “You two totally _did_ last night, didn’t you? I don’t need to get it out of anyone. Just look at you.”

Snap laughed. “Yeah, they’re vomit inducing. Makes me miss Evie.”

“Please don’t start with Evie, Snap. I can’t take another story about your wife that I’ve already heard a million times.”

Anya was still holding Poe’s gaze, so she nodded her head in the direction of the exit. He nodded in return.

“Um, Finn,” Anya put a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “I think I’m going to go for a walk. Thanks for eating with me today, though.”

She turned to L’ulo, Snap, and Jess. “You, too, guys. It was nice meeting you.”

Snap reached out a hand again. “Always great to meet a legend.”

“Oh, I don’t know about –“

“Yeah. Nice to put a beautiful face to a name,” Jess reached for her other hand, giving it a squeeze. “Really. Sincerely. If you decide old-timer here can’t keep up,” she grinned, “just let me know and –“

This time, the shuffling under the table ended with a sharp intake of pain from Poe.

“That’s right. Kick _me_ ,” she glared across the table. “See how that’s going to end.”

Anya laughed. “I’m flattered, Jess. Really. But I think I have a friend who might be interested. Think you’d like to meet her?”

Jess perked up, guarded. “Possibly.”

Anya glanced around mess, looking for a shock of midnight hair. She spotted Lerona across the room sitting with some of the other workers from Command. She pointed her out for Jess.

“Her name is Lerona. You see her over there? Dark skin? Killer braid?”

Jess gave an appreciative groan. “The one with _the lips_?”

Anya laughed. “Um. I guess?”

“I’m more than game. Is she up for it?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure, of course. But it couldn’t hurt to go introduce yourself.”

Jess was up from the table in a flash, gulping down the rest of her drink and straightening her collar. “Commander, I’m going to be leaving second shift a little early tonight.”

“Is that a request or an order?” Poe laughed.

“Yeah, whatever. Snap, make sure to tell Yancey to fix that issue with climate control on my X-Wing, will ya?”

Snap gave her a lazy salute. “Go get ‘em.”

She disappeared in a crowd of workers exiting the mess hall, and Anya wondered what kind of storm she’d just set loose on her best friend.

Anya stood from the table, gathering her things.

Poe cleared his throat. “Want some company on that walk, Anya?”

“You offering?” She smiled, stomach jumping up into her throat.

“Always.”

Snap groaned. “You two get out of here, too. I can’t deal with all the lovey-dovey eyes while I’m trying to eat my dinner.”

“Yeah, Wexley,” Poe stood, chuckling and roughing up Snap’s hair, earning himself a slap to the hand. “We’ll get out.”

“I’ll see you back in the rooms, Finn,” Poe muttered as he passed.

“No rush,” Finn grinned into his plate, cheeky, and Poe nudged him with his elbow.

Anya and Poe disposed of their garbage and set down their trays, heading out toward the outer doors. Anya kept stealing glances at him, trying to calm the part of her brain that was dancing around in excitement at the prospect of uninterrupted time with Poe.

They walked through the doors together and out into the late afternoon sun.


End file.
